


All This Time

by GirlwhoLived



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DH compliant, Domestic, EWE, F/M, Kinda Fluffy, Marriage, No Babies, Romance, Ron Bashing, harry is dragged into it, he is just so easy to hate, i guess, not sure where this is heading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:44:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlwhoLived/pseuds/GirlwhoLived
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2007. Hermione has a job at the Ministry, a posh flat and even a new kitten. She is happy and content with what her life has become. And then Ronald Weasley appears on her doorstep.<br/>Three years ago he broke her heart and disappeared without a word. But now he has returned with every intention of winning her back. But Ron is in for one hell of a surprise.<br/>Hermione got married a year ago. To none other than Draco Malfoy.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_-Friday-_

Soft licks on her arm pulled Hermione from sleep, and she rolled over with a smile. Blinking in the soft light, she scooped up the grey kitten staring at her. He was getting larger every day, but still had the plump kitten form and soft baby fur. After a few kisses to his head, Tucker struggled from her embrace, instead curling up on the bed. With a flop he fell into the blankets, tummy exposed, and she gave it a gentle stroke. Tucker had been a wonderful birthday present, and honestly she had not expected Draco to have thought of it. But according to him, all witches needed a proper familiar.

Her stomach rumbled, but she no longer felt queasy or dizzy. Hermione sat up slowly, realizing that she was bare save for her dark pink underwear. The sheet was wrapped around her middle, and she pulled it away, flinging it over Tucker who didn’t seem to mind.

The clock read 1:23, no wonder she felt hungry. But Draco had insisted she take Friday off to recuperate, and so here she was. Taking a deep breath, Hermione climbed out of bed. Their bedroom was a mess, but the sight of it only made her warm. Once Draco had been certain she wasn’t in immediate danger, he had used the excuse to carefully inspect her whole body. Several times. She cheeks flushed in remembrance.

Picking up his discarded blue shirt, she slipped it on. She managed the thin staircase, keeping a tight grip on the banister just in case. Heading to the kitchen, Hermione saw her wand on the table beside a cheese and pickle sandwich. This was the only sandwich he knew how to make, but for a ‘muggle meal’ he was quite taken with it. Rolling her eyes she took both, flicking her wand at the tea kettle.

He worried too much; behind Draco’s cool exterior was a man who was always looking out for her. But, she had to admit, yesterday’s experiment had gotten away from her rather quickly. From what Draco had told her, he had come home from work to find the whole flat filled with purple smoke, and herself unconscious aside a bubbling cauldron. After dragging her out onto the veranda, he had then had the difficult task of clearing away the smoke and the cauldron it came from. The most difficult, however, had been digging Tucker out from under the sofa.

The cauldron was ruined, but luckily nothing else in the library had been harmed.

All she remembered was watching one extra drop of molten silver fall into the cauldron. It had clung to the bottom of the bottle and she hadn’t seen it until it was too late. The anti-explosion charm, which prevented most magical injury, had worked. But, like an airbag in a car, she had been thrown back by the force. Hermione had woken on the veranda, coughing until her eyes watered, a very angry and worried husband standing over her.

Hermione took a bite of the sandwich and glanced to the far door, the library was calling to her. There were probably just enough ingredients to start over, and she had several other cauldrons.... but Draco had forbid her to do it without his help. The look of fear and concern in his eyes had made her wilt. And so she agreed.

“That man,” she muttered, taking another bite. Once Hermione had figured out that his snappish nature and snobbery was merely a shield, she had fallen hard. Draco was a modern, wizard version of Mr. Darcy -- a reference only her mother had understood. But just as he had won her over, Draco had wormed his way into her friends and family. Even Harry had been glad to see them together.

The kettle sang, interrupting her thoughts, and Hermione used her wand to make a cup. She preferred doing it herself, but this was easier. The sandwich was helping, but Hermione still felt weak. But that was not entirely the potion’s doing.

Draco had been gentle last night, but he had also needed to let out his fear. And so she had been deliciously punished all night. Hermione had gladly let him take control; his firm hands and greedy mouth making her scream.

Glancing at the plate, Hermione was surprised to see she had already finished off the sandwich. Reaching for the mug, she inhaled the sweet, grassy aroma of oolong tea. It was a magical variety, given to her by a friend in the ministry -- and each sip restored her magical core.

Sighing, she set the mug down, letting herself relax. She had to be back to work on Monday, which meant a quiet weekend. But for now a bath was in order.

A quiet mew below, and Hermione smiled down at Tucker curling around her ankles. This time when she scooped him onto her lap he stayed, purring loudly. His claws flexed onto her bare legs, but Hermione kept still. Drinking more tea, she stroked his fluffy behind.

“Well Mr. Kitty, I’m gonna go take a bath, and I don’t think you want to join. But afterwards I plan on reading on the sofa.”

She resisted the urge to pull out her research. No, today was about recuperating. Flicking her wand, Hermione set the bath on. Taking a last sip of tea, she regretfully took Tucker from her lap. He scampered off, and she heard the sound of a toy rolling across the hardwood.

Taking an apple from the bowl, she headed back to the staircase. Yes, a bubble bath was just what the doctor ordered.

Turning on her muggle stereo Hermione set up a relaxing playlist. It drifted through the bath into the bedroom, as she stripped and padded into the large bathroom. Humming with the song, she carefully brushed her hair and tied it out of the way. Slipping off her rings, she set them in a glass bowl along with her wand. Three floors below, a knock sounded on her front door, but Hermione was blissfully unaware.

* * *

 

Shuffling his feet awkwardly, Ronald Weasley glanced up at the building before him. It was a posh flat tucked inside the muggle village of Hampstead. Sure, it looked like a place Hermione could afford, but still he hesitated. This was a huge flat and Hermione wasn’t one who spent money frivolously. She was a solitary person, but also practical. Maybe she lived with other flatmates? This information, after all, was over a year old -- maybe she had moved. But he could feel wards around the door, and that meant a witch or wizard lived here.

It had taken a lot of courage to return to London, but his reunion with Hermione had his knees shaking. He had sent her letter over the years, but she had never responded. Only through Harry did he know for sure that Hermione was receiving them.

But he knew enough to start slow. Harry had mentioned a boyfriend a year or so ago, but nothing since. Ron refused to believe that she was taken, after all they belonged together. He would ease back into her life, reveal how he had changed, and hopefully she would accept him again. Slowing his damn pride, Ron knocked on the oak door.

He was both relieved and disappointed when no one answered.

Coming at this hour had been foolish, of course she would still be at work. Ron ignored the part of his mind that said he had done it on purpose. Glancing at his watch, Ron shook away his doubts. It had only been a few hours since he himself had returned to England -- not even Harry knew. He had wanted to see Hermione first. His family could wait, and so could his best friend.

He could simply come back, he rationalized, later tonight Hermione would definitely be home. And if this was the wrong flat, then he would go find Harry. But for now he wanted to surprise well, everyone.

He would come back tonight. With a quick glance around, Ron ducked behind the large brick gated entrance. Apparating back to his hotel, his first object was to get a stiff drink. He had been more nervous than he thought.

* * *

 

Hermione, dressed casually in a green blouse and slacks, lounged on the bed while Draco got undressed. His Auror robes were dirty and reeked of what she hoped was manure.

“Was it very bad?”

Draco grimaced, slipping on another pair of trousers, “No, I guess not -- not like the Gregson situation -- but the damn witch would not surrender. But we got another of her crew, so we have a good trail for the rest. And once they know we got her..” he trailed off.

Slipping on a crisp white shirt, he buttoned it slowly, sighing loudly “Merlin, I’m glad it’s the weekend. How are you feeling by the way?”

Hermione grinned as he came over and kissed her lightly.

“Much better, promise. The queasiness is almost gone, which is good. I don’t want it to spoil our meal.”

Pulling her up from the bed, Draco gave her a stern look over.

“Alright, but we are not walking all the way to Nicolette’s again.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione smirked. That had been one of his less successful ventures into the muggle world.

“Honest, I am fine with just going to the pub.”

That drew a grin from him, and Draco pulled her out of the bedroom.

“You think you will be up for tomorrow?”

Hermione paused on the staircase, “what?”

“Ginny. The match, remember?”

Swearing, she ignored her husband’s smirk. She had completely forgotten. Turning into the kitchen, she watched him flick through the post.

“Maybe it will come back tomorrow? I could wake up and be dizzy --”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Ginny will come back here and hex you, you do realize.”

Muttering, Hermione brushed past him. She had left his mother’s letter on top, but he simply folded it back into the pile. The dear woman was not going to stop badgering him about her garden party.

A knock at the door had both of them pause.

Hermione ducked into the library, “no, no, no! If it’s that damn man from the Prophet again, I swear I will hex him!”

Draco was busy scanning The Prophet, “it could be that nosy muggle lady, the one who wants you on the board of street keep-up or whatever it’s called.”

Sticking her head out she grinned, “true, but I’m not taking that risk. You go see, she fancies you.”

At Draco’s stunned expression, Hermione rolled her eyes. Men could be so oblivious -- especially the handsome ones.

“Come on,” she teased, “throw some Slytherin charm at her.”

Raising an eyebrow, Draco shot a tickling charm at her.

Squealing, Hermione managed to run out and push Draco towards the second floor balcony. The hex ended, and she collapsed to the floor, still giggling. He peered down, trying to see through the stained glass window.

“Ah, it’s that boy again, Robbie. But he’s run off.”

Climbing to her feet, Hermione was instantly serious,

“Poor thing, he still doesn’t quite believe me. But I’m certain he will be at Hogwarts next year. Maybe you could try speaking with him...”

Straightening her blouse, she noticed how still Draco had become. She came up beside him, leaning on the balcony. Hermione recognized the look on his face, and so she waited. They both had very different experiences in the war, and his had taken longer to heal. But occasionally memories would surprise him, and Draco would retreat inside himself.

“Next year,” his voice was quiet, “next year will be the 10th anniversary.”

Oh, Merlin he was right. Hermione ran a hand through her hair, watching her husband carefully.

He had not gone to the 5th anniversary, and he had certainly not been asked to attend -- but she knew that he wanted to go back. Draco needed to see the school rebuilt, to see life happening there again. She gently rested her head against his arm, and Draco leaned into it. He was acquitted of all charges, but the stigma was still there - as was the faded tattoo on his arm.

It had been early in their relationship when Hermione had woken to Draco screaming that his Mark was burning. It had only been a nightmare, and afterwards he had tried to leave -- despite it being his flat. But Hermione would not let him. It was that night when she first glimpsed the man behind the mask, and it was also when she realized how deep her feelings ran.

Draco shook his head suddenly, snapping out of the memory, and took a deep breath. Placing a quick kiss to her hair, he pulled away.

“Dinner?”

She nodded. And with a quick grin, he headed down the staircase to the first floor. Hermione knew that grin well, and she felt better every time she saw it. It meant he was fighting, and more importantly winning, whatever was plaguing his mind.

“Oh, my wand - and my purse!”

His chuckle was the only response as she dashed back up to their bedroom. But in record time Hermione had both in hand, strolling through the kitchen. Charming the dishes to wash themselves, she also set the broom about the floor. Even after explaining it, she had not gotten Draco to understand the importance of naming the broom Mickey.

Fishing around for her cell phone, she checked the battery and was glad to see her parents had only sent three worried texts.

Hurrying down the second stairs, she glanced up to Draco at the entrance way, “I’m ready, I’m ready. What are you--”

Standing on their front stoop, face red with surprise and possibly anger, was her ex-boyfriend Ronald Weasley. Hermione did the only thing that felt natural, she threw up.


	2. Chapter 2

With a quick rest and another drink, Ronald Weasley felt like a new man. Using the public floo to the only magical shop in Hampstead, he walked the rest of the way. The brisk night air was refreshing, and it gave him much needed courage. He felt it in his bones, this was where Hermione lived. This is where they could start again. They would both apologize and the bad blood would end.

Glancing up at the regal brick building, Ron walked up to the oak door and knocked.

For a stressful minute he heard nothing, only his own breathing, and then he felt the wards momentarily disappear. The heavy door creaked open, but Ron’s smile instantly disappeared.

“Malfoy!”

The blonde devil looked as surprised as he did. Inwardly Ron relaxed, this explained the posh flat and the protective wards. Maybe Hermione still lived in the city, or perhaps he had simply gotten the wrong number.

“Weasley, what the hell are you--”

Ron had never seen so many expressions filter across the ferret’s face, it was almost funny. Movement from inside jolted both of them, and oddly Draco stepped in the way, blocking Ron’s view. But the female voice struck a nerve, and Ron was sure he had just been cruciod. There was no other way to explain the pain and anger inside of his chest.

Staring at him in shock, was Hermione.

* * *

 

Gods, she hated throwing up.

“Hermione” Ron’s voice was a whisper, and it sent shivers up her spine. Immediately Draco was at her side,

“Dammit, Weasley! Get out of here!”

Draco’s wand had instantly cleaned the mess and she felt the wards fall back into place. But really she most grateful for his cool hands holding her upright. So much for a quiet weekend to recuperate, she thought bitterly.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked, but she could only squeeze his arm, trying to force oxygen back into her lungs.

“What the hell is going on? Why the fuck is Malfoy here? Who lives here? Hermione!”

Ron’s tone spurred something inside. Whatever dark recess of anger she had buried came flooding back to the surface. Pulling free from Draco, she stared down her ex-boyfriend.

“How dare you! You have no right to be angry at me! And how dare you come here like this! No warning, no letter? What the hell Ronald?” Draco’s hand on her arm was the only thing holding her back, “three years, Ron. Three years!”

But as usual, the stubborn ass could only focus on one thing, “why the hell is Malfoy here?”

Hermione was sure sparks shot out of her eyes, “he lives here. With me.”

Somehow Ron managed to turn a darker shade of red.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Draco gently pulled her back, “Dammit Weasley, are you trying to make sure every person in London hears you? You need to leave. Now.”

Her eyes never left Ron, but Hermione was impressed with how cool Draco was staying. Auror training had kicked in and she was grateful for it.

“Not until I get answers!”

Ron’s eyes went wide as Hermione felt another pull in her stomach, “‘Mione what’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she forced herself not to get sick again. Her hand was sweaty on Draco’s arm, but he was right there, holding her steady.

“Granger you need to sit.”

Ron had an awful look to his face, “Fuck. ‘Mione, are you pregnant?”

Somehow she had not dropped her purse and managed to get hold of her wand. Starring Ron in the eye, Hermione let loose all her resentment and hurt.

“Yes," she said, "With Draco's child. He is, after all, my husband.”

And then her wand slammed the door shut.

Draco pulled her into the living room, forcing her into a chair. She sank into it, head spinning, wand falling to the floor.

He swore under his breath, brushing hair from her face, “I knew it Granger, I knew that smoke wasn’t all gone. Don’t move.”

Despite the rolling of her stomach, Hermione couldn’t help but snicker.

“That’s all you have to say?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, looking far too amused given the situation, “I expect we'll be hearing from Potter soon.”

A glass zoomed down from the kitchen and Draco caught it, carefully using his wand to fill it with water.

“150 points to Slytherin.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Drink, oh pregnant wife of mine.”

Hermione obediently took the glass and forced herself to drink. At the moment it felt better then breaking into tears.

“It was rather Slytherin of you,” her husband grinned, falling into the opposite chair, “I liked it.”

* * *

 

Ron wasn’t sure how he hadn't splinched, but he apparated into Grimmauld Place in one piece. He glanced around the living room, surprised at how much had changed. The room had been redecorated with red and gold furniture and accents. They practically glowed against the black walls. It felt inviting, which was not something he would have ever said before.

A deafening trumpet filled his ears. Ron swore as his feet stuck to the carpet; It was a burglary charm. Then came the sound of a screaming baby.

His best friend spun out from the hall doorway, wand raised.

“Ron?”

Harry lowered his wand looking shocked, and the charm ended. The baby, however, did not.

“You complete arse, Ronald! I had just gotten Albus down!” Shoving past her husband, Ginny was already firing a hex, “Do you know how hard that is? Do you? Merlin forbid I ever get a full night’s sleep!

Ron's limbs locked in place in a full body bind, and he fell stiffly onto the carpet.

“Ginny...”

But his sister’s eyes were practically glowing, “No, Harry. There are many reasons why I want to kill this waste of flesh, and waking Albus is the final straw. Three years of measly letters, and now this? Oh, I could--”

Ron watched helplessly as Harry calmly took his wife’s wand, and lead her to the sofa. With a flick of his own wand, the screaming baby was no more.

Ginny looked ready to strike, “Did you silence our son?”

“I soundproofed his room, just for now.” Harry sighed and finally looked down at Ron, “may I free your brother?”

Ginny did not respond, but Ron was freed nonetheless. Wrenching himself up from the carpet, Ron stared at his best friend, trying to find his voice.

But it was too much, and Ron stayed on his knees, all his strength gone.

“Is it true,” he finally managed, “did she really marry him?”

Harry’s face did not change, but the silence was enough of an answer. Ginny looked sympathetic for a moment, then looked away. Ron was sure he was going to pass out.

“How about a drink, yeah?” Harry said gently, placing his wife’s wand on her lap, “for all of us.”

* * *

Ron downed a full glass of whiskey before he was sure he would not implode. Ginny sipped hers, eyes glancing up at the ceiling before she finally sighed and left the room. Ron was glad of it; he could not take hearing this news from her. Harry however, simply waited for him to catch his breath.

“I don’t understand,” was what finally came out.

“Gods Ron, I’m so sorry. She did not want you to find out like this.”

“But you said-- you said she had only been dating a bloke, you didn’t think it was serious.”

Ron focused on a faded velvet cushion, eyes following the blue trim. Harry exhaled, staring at his own glass of whiskey.

“That was three years ago, Ron, and she had only just started seeing Malfoy. And in all honesty it looked like a simple rebound... I think it was at first.”

Ron’s head throbbed, “and now they’re married? When did that bloody happen? And why wasn’t I told?”

At this Harry looked guilty, “They got married in November, so almost a year now.”

Rising to his feet, Harry went to one of the many ancient cupboards lining the wall. After digging around, he pulled out a faded copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Uh, Ginny’s got pictures somewhere, if you...”

Ron shook his head. The last thing he wanted to see was pictures of the bloody wedding. Then it would all be too real.

“I got the Prophet though, why didn’t I see it.”

Harry set the paper on the coffee table, “it wasn’t front page news. They pulled a lot of favors so it wouldn’t be. Just a small announcement in the wedding section.”

That image was burned into his mind, Hermione standing in the entrance with Malfoy by her side. God, the man had been holding her, asking if she was alright! As if he cared!

Ron felt sick.

“But he called her Granger.”

Harry did a double take, “wait, what? How do you know that? You didn’t go to Hampstead...”

Ron nodded, and Harry took a gulp of whiskey.

“Shit, Ron. I figured someone had told you.”

A shaky laugh was all he could manage. If only that had been so.

Slowly, he reached out and opened the paper. It might as well have been burning his fingertips. The wedding announcements were on page 8 -- not a section he had ever looked at before. But there it was, a short piece, without even a picture to go with it.

_Draco & Hermione _

_The Second Wizard War has finally come to an end in the hearts of those who experienced it firsthand. War heroine Hermione Granger is to wed Draco Malfoy (acquitted Death Eater) after two years together._ _The bride, a leader in the Ministry department for Protection and Rights of Magical Beings, is 27, and a muggleborn. The groom, the newest recruit to the Auror department, is 26._ _The couple were classmates at Hogwarts, each receiving the highest marks of their class. (Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively.)_

_The private ceremony is to take place at an undisclosed location in November of this year. No word yet on who is to officiate, but rumors say it might very well be our own Minister of Magic, Dean Thomas. The couple ask for privacy during this special time. Any gifts are asked to instead be donations to the following charities..._

 

It was all he could see. Hermione, his girl, kissing Malfoy, laughing with him, standing in a white gown next to that ferret!

The paper fell to the floor.

Harry interrupted his thoughts, “And well, she did take his name, but Draco still calls her Granger.”

Ron jolted, “Draco? You’re-you’re not friends with the git?”

Harry looked pained, “Ron, he’s an Auror. I hired him myself, and once they got serious...yeah, of course we became friends.”

Letting out a shaky breath, he asked the one question he really did not want to know.

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“She didn’t want you to know.”

Ginny stood in the doorway, arms crossed, “and why would she, after you broke her heart and left the goddamn country? Merlin, the first news she got was a shitty letter from you one month later! And yes, Hermione knew this is how you would react -- probably would have tried to run in last minute and ruin the ceremony. So we all kept quiet.”

Harry tactfully stayed out of the conversation, staring intently at the whiskey left in his glass.

Ron ignored the pounding in his chest, fist slamming on the coffee table, “That’s not fair! I was in pain and I needed to get out! She didn’t want to go with me. So I left! I didn’t plan on being away that long, things just happened!”

Ginny huffed, looking far too much like their mother.

“What did you fucking expect, Ronald? That she would be here waiting for you all this time? Grow up! Hermione found someone who makes her happy. And _he_ had the balls to ask for her hand.”

Staring at the fireplace, Ron realized he was shaking. He hadn’t expected Hermione to be waiting with open arms -- he expected to win her back. Was that so selfish? She had gotten bloody married and no one told him! And to god damn Malfoy! And now she was pregnant with his spawn.

No, this was a bad dream, it had to be. Ginny’s voice rang in his head, and Ron clenched his eyes shut.

“But I did ask...”

Gravity disappeared and the last he heard was muffled shouting.

* * *

 

After confirming his friend was still breathing, Harry Potter ran a tired hand through his dark hair.

“Did James wake?”

He felt Ginny come up beside him, “No, thank god. He can sleep through anything.”

He glanced at the grandfather clock, it was only just 9.

“Ginny, go to the Burrow, see if your parents know about his return. I...I will put him up into bed.”

His wife exhaled sharply through her nose, “I don’t want him here.”

“Ginny!”

But his wife only shook her head, “I will go see Mum, but he can’t stay.”

“I will go see Hermione tomorrow, but I can’t exactly move him. It’s too dangerous to apparate with an unconscious person. I’m amazed he hasn’t splinched himself already!”

With a huff, Ginny relented, “fine, but tomorrow he is going back to the Burrow or whatever hotel he was at. Put him on the third floor, that way he won’t wake James or Albus.”

Pulling her to his side, Harry relaxed, “thanks.”

Ginny tugged at her blouse, “Damn him, got me all riled up. I have to go pump. Then I will floo mum,” she walked out of the room, muttering under breath.

With a tired sigh, Harry levitated Ron and carefully made his way up three flights of Grimmauld Place. The poor bastard had been through quite a shock, and yet Harry knew it was a long time coming. What had brought him back now? And why hadn’t Ron said anything?

Harry wanted nothing more than to fall into bed. He could only imagine how Hermione felt.


	3. Chapter 3

_-Saturday-_

Harry had the decency to wait until noon before flooing to their flat. But Hermione had been awake hours before, waiting for some sort of news.

“Oh god, Harry!”

He stepped out of the fireplace and Hermione was already in his arms, breath ragged as she tried not to break out crying again.

But he understood, and hugged her just as tightly.

“How you doin, ‘Moine?”

She broke free, and fell back into the sofa, giving Harry a look that was a mix of horror and frustration.

“Morning, Harry.”

Her best friend nodded at Draco as he came down the staircase. He had a teapot and three mugs, which he set on the low table between them.

“This is for you.”

Draco pulled a rather startled looking Tucker from his pocket, and plopped him in her lap. Hermione couldn’t help but smile as he marched over her chest, trying to get his bearings. In truth, she was far calmer than she had been last night, but there was still an awful tightness in her chest.

It was Draco who broke the silence, “I imagine you know what happened?”

Harry nodded tiredly, “his version at least. Merlin, the man apparated into our living room without any warning, practically catatonic. I didn’t even know he was back! I mean, He was an idiot to return without telling anyone, of course, but...” he trailed off.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

The teapot poured itself and Draco handed a mug to Harry and then herself. It was oolong, which explained why he hadn’t brought down milk or sugar. And while she would not -- did not, feel bad for Ron’s reaction, Hermione definitely needed the restorative powers.

Harry took a sip before asking, “I finally got his story this morning. What is your version of what happened?”

Draco glanced her way, “ask Granger. She practically tore the man a new one.”

Shooting a glare at her husband, Hermione set down her mug, watching as Tucker curled up beside her. The wool blanket draped on the sofa was apparently more agreeable than her jumper.

“I don’t even know where to begin. We were going out for a bite, and I had to get my purse. And as I came down the stairs, I saw Draco standing in the entrance... and then Ron was on the doorstep, redder than I have ever seen him. Gosh, it was so unexpected I just, well, I threw up.”

Draco shook his head, “That damn smoke was still in her system.”

Harry nodded.

“Wait, Harry why do you know what happened?” She turned to stare at her husband, “You told him? When you were out in the field?”

Neither men said anything.

Hermione huffed, “is that what you do all day? Gossip about your wives when you are supposed to be hunting dangerous criminals?”

“And the kids.” Harry piped up.

Taking a sip of tea, Hermione tried to look more annoyed than she felt. But she was definitely telling Ginny.

“Anyway,” Draco waved his hand, “Weasley just started yelling. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him in London. And the man was refusing to listen, and well...”

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, “I may-- I may have snapped a bit. I was still feeling rather queasy and Ron made the rash assumption that I was pregnant--”

Harry choked on his tea.

“Go on,” Draco teased, and she flushed..

“So I said I was pregnant. And that it was Draco’s... and I may have also slammed the door in his face.”

Harry did not move for a few seconds, then his head fell back in howling laughter.

* * *

 Draco, for his part, looked far too pleased with Harry’s reaction. Hermione focused on the sleepy kitten beside her. Alright, maybe she did feel a little regret.

“Blimey, ‘Mione,” Harry finally managed to stifle his laughter, “you realize you triple hexed him?”

“I did what?”

Draco of course, understood.

“That’s true, not only are you married,” he grinned, “and pregnant, but you are also married to his rival.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione waved her hand, “pssh, you are hardly his rival. We are not at Hogwarts anymore.”

“Tell me,” Draco was serious, “would he still have been as angry last night if you had been with another man? Someone he did not know?”

Hermione opened her mouth only to snap it shut. Of course Ron would have still been angry --then her thoughts drifted back to the Yule ball. Ron had been furious when it was revealed who her date was. And that was Victor Krum, someone he idolized. Dropping her head in her hands, Hermione groaned.

“Why did he leave, Hermione?” Harry asked gently.

“Three years ago?” Hermione slowly looked up, “let’s see, because he acted like a spoiled baby who was completely incapable of being in an adult relationship.”

At Harry’s expression she gave in, “alright, alright. He wanted to get married and start a family... and I wasn’t ready.”

Bollocks, they were right. It was a triple hex.

“But I’m not pregnant! And it wasn’t as if I married Draco to get back at Ron! He left _me_!”

Harry held up his hands, “We’re not blaming you. But it explains why he flooed into my home without warning, waking Albus and pissing off my wife. It was a might big shock.”

“Oh, he didn’t!”

Harry shook his head, “It’s fine. I answered his questions, but I’m not sure of what he heard. Ron," he glanced at his wrist, "should have left for the Burrow by now, no doubt with Ginny’s help. But it seems he didn’t tell anyone he was returning.”

There was a tense moment of silence. Jess, an American friend, would have a perfect expression for Ron. He was a bull in a china shop. The man could not help but mess things up. The only difference being that it was no longer her job to follow behind and pick up the pieces.

She wanted to feel sorry for the man - she did! But last night had only been a reminder of how much pain he had caused.

“Is he coming to the match?”

Draco’s question caught them both, but Harry shrugged, “not that I know of. Ginny certainly didn’t mention it to him. Molly might, but I don’t think he will easily escape her clutches.”

Draco smirked at her, and she glowered. That excuse wouldn’t work. She would still have to go to the match.

“Are you going to talk to him?”

Hermione glanced at her best friend, suddenly feeling like they were back in the Gryffindor common room. This fight had happened many times before, with poor Harry acting as moderator.

“Yes, of course. Once he cools down.”

“It should probably be in a neutral location,” Draco added after a moment, “with other people to keep him level headed.”

Harry nodded, “I was thinking the same. How about next weekend? Molly was going to take the kids anyway, and Ginny, well...it will give her a week to cool down as well.”

Hermione’s tea had gone cold, but she sipped it anyway, merely to keep busy. Would a week be enough time? For her, it would be, she had prepared cases in less time. And any feelings she had romantically for Ron had long gone. Draco owned her heart now.

“Alright, next weekend.” Her voice was calm and steady, surprising ever herself, “but Harry? Tell him not to...ask him to stay away until then.”

Harry nodded, “that would be for the best.”

As he stood up from the sofa, she noticed how tired Harry looked. He had two young children, a demanding job, and now he had to deal with this mess. But he also had Ginny, and she was fiercely protective of her husband. She would not let Ron off the hook so easily.

Hermione bit her lip,“Let us know, of course, if anything happens... I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

Harry just smiled, and waved her off, “you’re both my best friends. And I have dragged you into far more dangerous stuff, so it’s even.”

She smiled, then clapped a hand to her face, “Oh, and tell him I’m not pregnant.”

Harry snickered, and disappeared into the fireplace.

Falling back into the sofa, she glanced at her husband.

The meeting was not going to be easy or pleasant. Ron was an emotional person, she was rational. Their entire relationship had consisted of arguments, one’s that usually left her steaming. And yesterday she had seen his immediate jealousy and possessiveness. Ron hadn’t changed.

It wasn’t like that with Draco, even during their worst fights they had at least worked out the problem. But with Ron it had only felt like an ever growing wall between them. Draco was as rational a thinker as she was, though secretly Hermione wondered if that was an effect of the war. Regardless, it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

Reaching out her hand, Draco rose and joined her on the sofa.

“You are going to be there.”

Draco glanced at her, “of course.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, I mean you are going to be in the room with me.”

Draco raised his brow, “I imagine that might not sit well with him.”

“Too bad. You are partly to blame, after all.”

Her husband chuckled, “he is going to try and kill me.”

Hermione nudged him playfully, “Oh, is the great Auror scared?”

“Of him? Never.”

Hermione sighed, breathing in Draco’s scent. He pulled his arm loose, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Hermione sighed, “Not really, but then I shouldn’t have to explain myself. He is the one who disappeared for three bloody years. Ron owes an explanation to everyone, not just me.”

She could feel him nod, “True. So don’t let it eat at you all week. You’ve dealt with far stickier cases at work.”

She smiled; they were always on the same page.

They both fell silent, and Hermione took some calming breaths. She couldn’t let this get in her way. The past was the past, and she had no wish to bring it up again. Hermione was pleased with how far she had come, and Draco was the reason why. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised at how much time had passed.

“Tell me again,” Hermione broke the silence, “why this match is so important. Ginny played last time.”

She knew he was rolling his eyes, “Yes, she did. The last match was her first game back from leave -- but she is starting this match. Normally, after a player has been gone for a while, for injury or in her case pregnancy, they need a while to get back in shape. But the coach is letting her start the match only two games into her return. It means she is very talented.”

Hermione nodded, “alright. But I still don’t want to go.”

* * *

 

His parents were both thrilled and furious when Ron stepped into the Burrow. Their was plenty of hugs and tears, and then he was pulled to the kitchen table for a proper talk. Apparently Ginny had warned them last night of his return.

Harry had disappeared not long after breakfast, and Ginny refused to speak to him. Ron had been glad to leave, the only bright spot was meeting his nephews. James was the spitting image of Harry, but it was too soon to tell who Albus resembled.

Arthur and Molly had been quite lengthy with their speeches, but Ron knew from experience that it was extremely subdued. But why? What had Ginny said to them?

Sure he had passed out last night, but Ron felt fine now. As for Hermione...well, that needed more time. But why were they acting so strange?

Arthur wiped at his brow and patted his wife's hand and suddenly the talk was over. Ron was grateful, but also confused. Mum hadn’t once brought up Hermione -- and that was very unlike her.

A chubby hand tugged at his mother’s skirt, and Ron stopped breathing.

The little boy had dark skin and wavy hair, but their was no mistaking that grin.

“Fred, meet your uncle Ron.”

The little boy grinned up at him, not shy in the slightest.

“Play, Quiddith?”

It was not so much a question as it was a demand, but Ron couldn’t find his voice. But Grandmummy was ready, wiping something off the boy’s cheek,

“Yes of course, Uncle Ron would love to play Quidditch with you! It was his favorite game when he was your age.”

Eyes glinting, Fred ran back into the sitting room.

“That’s...that’s him? God he was a babe the last I saw him.”

Molly nodded, “oh, he hasn’t stopped growing. That boy has more energy than I have ever seen, and that includes you lot. Now go on, he wants you to enchant the board game.”

Arthur stood up from the table with a grin, “Just be careful where your wand is, Freddie has quick fingers.”

His father had lost most of his hair, and it was quickly covered with a hat. Ron watched as he slipped on his ancient traveling cloak and swept out the door. When had his parents become old?

Molly, still had a blush about her cheeks, but she was moving slower.

“Uncle Ron!” a little voice called from the next room, and with halting steps Ron headed towards it. Fred was all set up with the battered game. How it had lasted all seven children and now a grandchild was astounding.

Sitting on the carpet, Ron felt his eyes sting. This was all too familiar.

“You are the blue team, I red.” Fred shoved the pieces across the board, nearly knocking over the spindly hoops.

Nodding, Ron took out his wand and the players took formation floating above the board.

Fred giggled and clapped his hands, hurriedly opening the small box that held the set of balls. There was no snitch and one of the bludgers was now a marble, but the tin players flew over the board like they always had.

“Go, go! Quaffle to 'free!” Fred cheered, watching intensely as the players obeyed his command, “now, umm...six catch!”

The little face stared at him expectantly, and Ron hurriedly sent his keeper to block the incoming shot. A shadow covered the board, and they both looked up to see Molly with a tray.

“Whistle!” Fred shouted, and the game froze, players quivering in the air.

Taking the tray from his mum, Ron carefully set it on the ottoman. A plate of biscuits and two glasses of milk. Handing the smaller glass to Fred, Ron felt his eyes sting again.

“Thanks, Gramma!”

Fred already had crumbs on his face, and several falling on the board.

“Your turn,” his nephew grinned. Ron sent his beater after the nearest red player, the blue marble knocking it off course. And so the game went on, with several more to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

_-September 20th, 2003-_

This was the fourth apartment they had looked at today. Hermione liked it immediately, but Malfoy had to view all the options first. So they had looked at three more flats before returning to 12 Marigold Way, Hampstead Heath.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was here or why she had agreed. Malfoy had done just fine dealing with the muggle realtors and landlords. But it was a day out of her empty flat, and as much as she loved her friends, their pity was getting old. And while she wasn’t sure if she and Malfoy were friends yet, he was a refreshing change.

What Hermione had not considered was how often people assumed they were a couple. The first time had sent both of them reeling -- Malfoy stuttering like a fool and herself bright red. By the fifth flat they had an unspoken agreement to nod and then change the subject.

“Granger.”

Startled, she turned from the balcony and came into the kitchen.

“Yes?”

Despite his cool exterior, she could see that the day was wearing on him.

“Does this,” he waved, “look... right?”

Hiding a grin, Hermione wandered closer, inspecting the gas oven. It looked new enough, and while she wasn’t familiar with the brand, she had no doubt it was a nice one. The refrigerator was not her taste, but it too was in good condition. There was even a microwave, which she doubted Malfoy would ever have reason to use.

Turning back to Malfoy, she gave a quick nod. The flat was the definition of posh.

“Alright,” Malfoy sighed, just as the realtor flew back down the stairs.

Tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, the lady grinned, “the upstairs is all set, I apologize that you could not see it earlier.”

Obediently they followed her up the small staircase.

“Now, I hope you enjoyed the library, it is such a lovely little space. The bookshelves in particular are my favorite. It could easily be used as an office. Now, here are two small bedrooms, for guests or possibly children.” She flashed them a smile, and Hermione did her best not to snicker.

“Now this, this is the master bedroom with a lovely washroom, plenty of closet space...”

Hermione stopped listening. The room was lovely, with a vaulted ceiling and the same oak molding that ran throughout the house. The balcony looked out into the street with antique ironwork railings. She wondered if she could go out on it.

“Granger.”

With a sigh, Hermione turned and went into the master bath. The realtor was still babbling on, but she caught Malfoy’s eye, and Hermione knew why she was called. There was nothing inside that was exclusively muggle. It had a nice mix of modern and antique appliances. There was a glass shower beside a claw-foot tub, toilet, silver faucet and even a vanity table. The space was nicely organized and did not feel cramped. A small window on the far wall brought in some natural light. Merlin, if he didn’t want this flat she would take it.  

“I’m not a fan of the wall color,” Hermione finally admitted.

“Well, that is an easy fix, of course. But the appliances and plumbing are all in working order, I assure you.” the realtor flapped her hands, “I will give you two a moment, please take your time.”

Malfoy relaxed immediately after she left, stepping back into the bedroom.

“So, has a decision been made?” Hermione teased, leaning in the doorway.

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy glanced around the room.

“Tell me again, is there anything specific I need to do living... among muggles?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, and their are quite a few references available about living with muggles -- proper spells and such. I think the only concern is that you can’t always apparate or travel by floo. They need to see you walking about. And as for the appliances? They are not too different from magical ones.”

Malfoy was pensive and she could see his mind working. She resisted looking at her watch and instead sat on the bed, letting her feet rest.

“Hampstead Heath is truly a lovely spot, and much quieter than some of the other places we --you, looked at. This is off the main road, so you won’t hear much traffic. And they have quite a famous park up the road.”

Draco nodded absently, strolling to the veranda’s glass doors and peeking outside.

“You really don’t like the color of the paint?”

Hermione looked up in surprise, but he seemed serious.

“Umm, it’s not my taste.”

He waited, and so she went on, “I don’t like cream. It’s nice in small spaces, but it get’s boring...” she shook her head, “For the bath I would think a blue shade would be nice. Not dark, but something organic.”

Malfoy looked impressed.

Hermione could not help but be struck again at how much he had changed. It had been five years since she had really seen him. But this here was a man starting a new chapter of his life. Hermione ignored the sudden pain in her chest; she too was in a new chapter. But she would not think of it now. Today had been a good day.

“Granger.”

With a nod of his head, she rose and followed him back to the ground floor. Malfoy was not a particularly loquacious man, but Hermione did not mind; she had quite enough of people asking how she was faring. Malfoy did not waste words.

Passing through the apartment, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if finding a new place wasn’t such a bad idea. Malfoy needed to get away from the memories of the Manor, and she... well, she needed to stop expecting Ron to suddenly appear in their flat.

Malfoy stopped partway through the kitchen and Hermione narrowly avoided him. Grasping the back of a kitchen chair, Malfoy looked oddly frustrated.

His blue eyes found hers, and Hermione blushed.

“Thank you Granger, for accompanying me today”

And with that Draco Malfoy disappeared down the last flight of stairs. A warm feeling spread through her body and she hurried after him.

* * *

_-Saturday-_

Ron couldn’t help the anger blooming inside. It was as if his blood had been replaced with molasses, each movement was stiff and elongated.

Cutting through the crowd, ticket clutched in his fist, he finally found his seat. It was thirty minutes into the match, but Ron was not here to watch Ginny. It had been a cheap ticket, far below the field, but it suited him just fine. The angle gave him a perfect view of the stadium boxes. It was a selfish and pathetic move, but he had to see for himself.

A mere hour ago Ron had been playing with Fred when Harry stepped through the floo, two children in hand. With a quick nod, his best friend disappeared into the kitchen where Molly greeted them warmly. A shy toddler hurried into the living room, and Fred instantly ran to give him a rough hug.

There was no mistaking whose child this was, he was a miniature Harry Potter, missing only the glasses and scar. James gave him a small wave, and then Ron was instantly forgotten. James and Fred took over the board, and with an expectant look from the five year old, Ron enchanted the tin figures.

Harry, he figured, must have apparated. Ron hoped it wasn’t because of him.

“Mummy!”

James was red this time and he immediately sent his chasers in motion.

Fred giggled and sent out his beaters, “yup!”

Standing, Ron headed back to the kitchen, hoping for something to drink besides milk.

Molly was cooing at Albus, and Ron came up beside her. Albus was staring at the ceiling,  chubby hands gripping a wooden spoon. It was strange realizing your baby sister had two children of her own.

“Where did Harry run off to?”

Molly tickled Albus, “Oh, Ginny has a match today. George and Angelina went to support her, so I got all the kiddies. They are going out after, if she is not too tired. Somebody hasn’t been letting her sleep, now has he?” She grinned down at her grandson.

“She got them all box seats, otherwise I’m sure Ginny would have invited you.”

Ron snorted, Ginny had been far too happy when he left for the Burrow.

“I still think it’s too soon for her to be back, but you know your sister,” Molly sighed, “I wanted them to come back here after, but Hermione already made reservations at a new London restaurant.”

Ron was sure someone had hexed him again. The shock of her name, and the implication that went with it invoked a physical response.  

After finding the omnioculars buried in the attic, Ron made the excuse of returning to his hotel. Instead he apparated to the London Quidditch stadium. His omnioculars were dusty but he was glad to see they still worked after all these years.

The crowd roared as the Harpie’s Keeper knocked the Quaffle away, and Ron forced himself to calm down. The atmosphere was making his heart race. Turning one of the many knobs, Ron zoomed in on the stadium boxes. He found the box easily, Harry stood at the front chatting with Angelina. The Gryffindors watched the match intently, but he zoomed past them.

A man in a cloak spoke to George, but his head was turned away and Ron could not place him. His hair was dark however, and therefore it wasn’t Malfoy. A witch wearing a Holyhead Harpie’s scarf headed over to Harry and Angelina, but Ron did not know her either. Impatient, he fiddled with the other knobs, trying to remember what each one did.

The crowd roared, jolting his focus, but Ron ignored the announcer’s booming voice. Using a different knob, Ron was able to slow the scene in the box. George had rejoined his wife at the front. Harry was sipping a beer, laughing at whatever the cloaked man was saying. His best friend turned in his seat, waving to someone out of sight. The cloaked man finally turned around to reveal Neville Longbottom.

Rewinding the few seconds, Ron focused in on the Hogwarts professor. He too had changed, but for the better. He stood tall and confident; teaching obviously agreed with the man. Ron hurriedly set it back to real time, Neville was not his focus.

He must have made an awful noise, because three people turned in alarm.

Hermione had joined Harry and Neville. Dressed in dark grey trousers and a navy jumper, she handed the men fresh drinks. She smiled and nodded adamantly to something Neville said, glancing only occasionally at the match. It was painful to watch, and yet he could not look away. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, falling just past her shoulder. She looked lovely.

She looked relaxed and happy, all of which tore his stomach into knots. When Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind an ear, Ron felt sick. Hesitantly, he turned the replay knob. The lights of the stadium glinted off her hand, and for one long second her diamond ring taunted him.

Lowering his omnioculars, Ron fell back into his seat. The hollers and cheer of the stadium pounding inside his head.

How the hell had this happened?

Clenching the omnioculars, Ron wanted nothing more than to get inside that box and demand answers. Merlin, he needed a bloody time-turner! How had he let Hermione slip away?

No, he needed to leave. No one could know he was at the match. Ginny would do far worse than a body-bind hex if she found out.

But apparently he enjoyed torture, because Ron raised the omnioculars one last time.

The devil had arrived.

“Malfoy.”

* * *

 

Ginny was still high from the match, despite the soreness settling into her limbs. It had been a great match, and now she was out on the town without any screaming children in tow. It was an awful wonderful feeling. Four other women on the team had children, and they all agreed that a night out was necessary for her sanity. Ginny agreed.

Clasping hands with Harry, she grinned at the long table full of her friends and family. Her teammates had been right, she needed to feel like a woman again, not just a mum.

Raising her butterbeer, Ginny sighed, she was almost a woman. Albus was just starting solids, and until then, she still had to watch her diet.

“Honestly, Gin,” her sister in law spoke up, “I’m not sure how you did it. It took me over a year before I could properly ride a broom again.”

Laughing, Ginny shook her head, “Tell me about it. But with two kids I was starting to go a bit mad, and the need to fly again -- oh, it was too much to pass up. I will be sitting on ice for the next few days,” Neville and his girlfriend choked, “but that’s nothing new.”

George snorted, “good thing mum didn’t hear that.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Squeezing out a human isn’t exactly easy.”

The table laughed, and another round of drinks were ordered.

“You have my sympathy there,” Draco smirked playfully, “I spent many a time with ice between my legs after a match. Broomsticks are especially unkind to the male genitalia.”

George and her husband nodded solemnly.

“Squashed balls and a bent poker are just some of the many tragedies that can occur,” George added gleefully, “consider yourself lucky you got any children out of him.”

Harry stifled a laugh, “oye!”

The table laughed again, Draco raising his glass in salute.

Hermione sipped her wine, rolling her eyes. Ginny stifled a laugh and glanced at Angelina. The debate of who suffered more on a broom had been going on since Hogwarts.

Waiters arrived to clean away the dessert plates and everyone relaxed, slowly finishing their drinks. The dinner was coming to its end, and Ginny was ready to head home.

Elbowing Harry in the side, she nodded towards Hermione. They still had not mentioned Ron to the group. But they deserved to know.

Harry broke the silence, tapping lightly on his wine glass. She saw Hermione stiffen, but her friend nodded in acceptance. She didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“Before we all say goodnight, there is something you all should know,” Harry exhaled slowly, “Ron is back in town.”

The table murmured quietly to themselves, several glancing at Hermione.

“That rat bastard is back, aye?” George shook his head, “about damn time. I hope you pummeled him good Harry.”

Ginny smirked, “No, but he is with Mum right now.”

“As I was saying,” Harry glanced across to Hermione, “we are going to have a welcome party for him next weekend at Grimmauld Place. You are all invited.”

The table went silent, and Ginny saw Draco’s hand slip under the table to hold his wife’s. Draco shot her a look, and Ginny understood. Hermione would be ready, and he would be right there with her.

“Does the family know?”

Ginny shrugged, “Just mum and Dad, but I’m sure that won’t last long.”

George threw back the last of his beer, and Angelina offered her a small smile. The Weasley house had suffered after Ron’s departure.

“Shit.”

Neville blushed as soon as he said it, but the table was already laughing. It was an accurate response to the news. Even Hermione laughed, and Ginny instantly felt better. Turning to her husband she kissed his cheek, and they stood up from the table. Ginny was ready to go back and see her children.


	5. Chapter 5

_-Saturday-_

Ron was asleep on the sofa when he and Ginny apparated into the Burrow. Harry studied the man, surprised at how different he looked. But was it the three years away or learning his ex had married? Now that he thought of it, Harry wasn’t even sure where Ron had come from. The man had always been moving around, letters always coming from a different place. What was it that finally brought him back?

Ginny squeezed his hand before heading up to check on the children. The squeak of the staircase woke Ron and he sat up slowly, rubbing his neck.

“Hey.”

Harry sat on the ottoman, “Hey, Ron.”

A startled cry came from upstairs, but it didn’t last. Ginny must be nursing him. Albus did not like to be woken, and yet even the buzz of a fly could startle him. James thankfully, could sleep through anything.

“I heard the Harpies won.”

Silence fell between them and Harry noted the beer bottles beside the radio. Somehow he had found out.

“She had a good match,” Harry exhaled, then took the plunge, “so, Ron, I spoke with Hermione.”

Ron tensed, but Harry felt no pity for the man.

“Hermione apologizes for the things she said. She did not mean to lose her temper,” Harry scratched his ear, “but she does want to speak with you, to you know, get everything...er, settled.”

Ron was still silent, gripping a throw pillow with a white-knuckle grip. Ron had been shocked by Hermione’s marriage to Draco, there was no denying it. But had he even considered how Hermione felt? Or anyone else for that matter? According to Ginny, Molly had burst out crying at the news of his return.

“We... Ginny and I, we were thinking that we could throw you a welcome home party. Next Saturday.”

Ron huffed, but Harry couldn't tell what it meant.

“Everyone wants to see you, and I’m sure your mum already wrote to your brothers. We can all catch up and it will be a good time.”

Ron nodded stiffly, releasing the abused pillow. It toppled over revealing some sort of leather strap. Harry paused, why did that look familiar?

“Sorry, what?”

“She'll be there?” Ron asked again.

“Of course. Hermione wants to see you.”

“Will he be coming?”

The question came out harsh, as if Ron already knew the answer. But Harry was distracted by the leather strap and he only nodded. It went around your neck, but he didn’t think it was a camera. He had only ever seen muggle cameras like that. But he had a distinct feeling that he owned one.

“Why is he coming?”

Gritting his teeth, Harry remembered to keep his voice quiet.

“Because Draco is her husband. And he is also a good friend.”

Exhaling, Ron nodded slowly.

“Um, Neville will be there. I know George and Angelina plan on attending. Ginny wants to invite Luna and her husband, and of course, anyone else you would like.”

Ron reached for a beer, only to set it back down when he realized it was empty.

“And Ron, I think it would be best if you kept your distance for now. So both you and Hermione can adjust and...”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

Unbelievable, Ron was pouting. Harry ran a hand through his hair, how many times had he sat James down like this? But Ron was not a child and he needed to face fact.

“Hermione wants to see you, Ron. But you gave her quite a shock as well. And so she wants to prepare -- you know, as Hermione does for everything. But I agree with her. For now, giving her space is not too much to ask. Afterall, the press don’t even know your back yet, and they would jump all over this story.”

A creak from the staircase had Harry turning to see his wife.

“Albus is down. Come get James so we can leave.”

Nodding, Harry turned back to his friend.

“Feel free to come over anytime, yeah? It really is good to have you back, mate.”

“Harry!”

Hurrying up the staircase, Harry squeezed his wife’s arm. Ron had agreed to the party, and that was progress. Slipping inside Ginny’s old room, he carefully scooped James into his arms.

The little boy snuggled closer, and anything else in Harry’s mind was completely forgotten. There was something purely magical about having a child. It was the best thing he had ever done in his life. His role in the war, and even his so-called fame meant nothing in comparison. Harry had could admit now that he had never understood the true power and sacrifice his mother had made. But the moment James was born, Harry instantly understood.

Slipping through the door, Harry carefully went back down where his wife waited. Albus was tucked into her shoulder, thumb in his mouth. Ginny swayed gently, murmuring softly in his ear.

With a smile at Ron, Harry balanced James in one arm to throw the floo powder. Stepping in, he hugged his boy close.

“Grimmauld Place!” he whispered.

* * *

  _-Monday-_

Hermione came home from work, kicked off her heels and made herself a cup of tea. She had not missed much, her staff had handled Friday just fine. Despite their teasing she had complete confidence in them. But it had also been nice to get back to work. Ron had crept into her head all weekend and it was driving her mad. A long day of case work had kept her occupied.

Tapping her nail against her teacup, she let the idiot back in. Now was time to think of the party, and what she was going to say. Draco had suggested arriving late and Hermione agreed. It would allow Ron to see his old friends and relax. She knew better than anyone that once she arrived with Draco the party atmosphere would end.

Friday had not been anything close to how she wanted their reunion to go and she wanted to make amends. She had not heard anything from Harry, but hopefully Draco would bring home news.

She was immensely grateful that Harry hadn’t mentioned the ‘reunion’ at dinner, only the welcome-back party. But even then, Hermione felt eyes on her. Just quick glances, as if they were expecting her to cry out or yell. Even worse, as if they expected her to jump up and go running back to Ron. Granted, these looks were mainly coming from Ginny’s friends who didn’t know her, but Hermione couldn’t help being offended. Clutching Draco’s hand was the only thing that kept her calm.

Until then the match had been quite fun. Neville had brought his new girlfriend, Liv, Madame Pomfrey’s replacement. Hermione thought she was cute and sweet. Neville was smitten, and if Hermione was any judge, Liv seemed the same.

She may have spent most of the match quizzing him mercilessly about Hogwarts. It was partly for her own curiosity, but mainly because she knew Draco was listening. Neville had been one of the few who looked genuinely sympathetic at the news. Unlike the rest of the party, he had been with them at Hogwarts.

A grey blur bounded on her lap, and Hermione quickly set down her tea. Meowing and purring loudly, Tucker quickly made himself comfy on her lap. The little bugger had good timing. Scratching his chin, she followed his example and relaxed her whole body. Staring up at the balcony she took a deep breath.

She prayed Harry had told Ron the truth about her pregnancy. It had been cruel and petty, but for that one moment she had wanted Ron to suffer like she had. Now she only felt guilty for playing that card. What had Harry called it?

The triple-hex: Pregnancy, marriage, Draco.

Tucker’s claws kneading into her legs, Hermione looked at the situation logically. She, Draco and Harry had immediately assumed that Ron had returned to win her back. But he hadn’t actually said anything about the reason for his return. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. Perhaps he had simply come to apologize.

But the lawyer in her disagreed, there was years of evidence proving Ron’s behavior. And this episode had been no different. This was not a case she was trying to win, but it was one she wanted settled amicably. And she too had fallen back into bad behavior. She would have to be sensitive to his needs and Ron would have to open his mind.

With a flick of her wand, a pad of paper and pen flew out of a desk drawer. She needed to sort out her thoughts properly.

Hermione could fully admit that if Ron had returned to London with a wife on his arm, she would have been upset. Whether or not she was married to Draco, Ron’s new life would have brought back lots of memories. But would she still wanted him back after three years?

Hermione tapped her pen, but she already knew that answer. Those years had been hard, but it had also given her perspective. Time away from Ron had allowed her to see the truth. They wanted different things, and neither had been willing to change. She would have to make him see that; what had originally driven them apart would only have been repeated.

And now that she was married, Hermione could clearly see the warning signs. Even their friendship as children had been full of arguments and hurt feelings. Of course it had not been all bad, but Hermione knew now that it wasn’t enough. They had been childhood friends, and without the war, perhaps they would never have gotten together at all.

Ron had proposed to her on Valentines. And with that one gesture 2003 fell apart around her.

She had known it was coming, yet when the moment arrived, Hermione froze. Her body wanted to say yes, but her mind held back. Months before at Christmas, they had finally met little Freddie. And then Ginny and Harry announced that she was three months along. It was then she first saw the desire in her boyfriend’s eye.

Ron was elated to be an uncle, but it also fueled his need to be a father. Growing up in a large family, he wanted nothing more than a house full of children. It had caused one the biggest rifts between them.

Hermione wanted to focus on herself now that the war had ended. She wanted a career. Having a family could wait. Harry had never had a family of his own, and she understood their desire to start early. But that was not what she wanted.

Ron had understood at first, but it had not lasted. He thought marriage would solve their problems. All it did was make the engagement ring feel that much heavier on her hand.

Hermione had almost ended it right then. Taking another sip of tea, she stroked Tucker’s head, maybe she should have. It would have saved both of them months of suffering.

It had instantly felt different with Draco. Private and independent, they had quickly fallen into an easy relationship. He too had grown up an only child, and he did not want a family right away. Draco was still trying to find peace after serving his sentence in Azkaban. The Malfoy name was still associated with the war, and he would not let a child live under that scrutiny.

When Draco finally proposed, it had been a complete surprise. But Hermione had answered right away. It had felt right.

But the thought of Ron hearing the news kept her up most nights. He would only see it as a betrayal. It was why she had asked everyone to lie. Ginny had agreed with her, and eventually so did Harry. Their friends, and even the Weasleys, had kept the truth from him.

Yet, when the day of her wedding arrived, Ron never once entered her thoughts. And it had been one of the best days of her life.

Hermione set the pad on the table. It was a mess of questions, arrows and scribbles. She took another sip of tea, then used her wand to reheat it. She needed to think of something else for a while.

* * *

 Draco sat at his desk, fingers drumming the surface. He had been out of the field since lunch, spending the rest of the day in the office catching up on paperwork. It gave him a chance to speak with Potter. But now Draco regretted that decision. The Head Auror had little to say, but it had been plenty.

Swearing, Draco stood and marched out of the office. He was wasting time and Hermione deserved to know. Heading to the apparition point, he spun on his heel.

Landing on the rug in the living room, Draco ran a hand through his hair. Hermione was on the sofa, but her smile quickly became serious.

“Draco, what’s wrong?”

Hermione was reading on the sofa, a grey lump next to her. He paused, she was looking over their wedding album.

Shedding his robes, Draco draped them over the nearest chair.

“I spoke to Potter.”

She closed the album, “and?”

“He’s agreed to the party... he doesn’t want me there, of course,” Draco went to the hutch, “but Harry’s going to write you with plans.”

Pouring a decent helping, he took a sip of bourbon, letting the burn do its work. Turning back to his wife, he grimaced.

“Weasley went to the match. And it wasn’t to watch his sister.”

Her face crumpled, just like he feared.

“Molly or the kids must have said something. Ron made some excuse of going back to his hotel -- but he went to the match.”

Hermione shook her head, “How did Harry find out?”

Taking another sip, he walked over and handed her the glass.

“Ron was at the Burrow when they went to pick up the kids. Harry was explaining the party when he spotted a pair of omnioculars. Apparently Ron had tried to hide them under a pillow. Oh, and yesterday, Ron went to their place, and Harry found the ticket in his jacket,” he felt like laughing, “midline cheering section -- it gave him perfect view of the box.”

Hermione exhaled and took a sip of bourbon.

Draco was not threatened or intimidated by Weasley’s return. Despite his past as Hogwarts bully and cowardly Death Eater, Draco was secure in himself. He wasn’t afraid of Ron stealing Hermione back, because he knew it wouldn’t work. It was a slight to her character to even consider it. Hermione was a strong, intelligent woman - and she had made her choice.

Ron’s behavior was childish and wrong. As an Auror he saw red flags, and as a husband he was annoyed.

Harry hadn’t yet told Ron to stay away, and therefore it didn’t qualify as stalking. Harry had repeated that several times. But that was nothing but a technicality.

“Draco, sit down.”

Her tone surprised him, and he sat in the nearest chair. She sounded amused as she pushed the glass back over to him.

“He... he had to see for himself. Harry said before that Ron wasn’t taking the news well -- and he never was good at listening. Maybe seeing us together will force him to accept the truth. But,” she added, “if it happens again, then you can arrest him.”

Hermione grinned; she was teasing him!

Avoiding her gaze, Draco finished the glass. He damn sure would arrest Weasley if it happened again.

“You know, what I’m thinking about?”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, surprised at her tone.

Her smile was coy.

“I was thinking about Bali,” she continued.

Merlin, this woman knew all the right buttons to push. Breathing through his nose, Draco tried to sound annoyed, “Granger...”

But she only shook her head, “what’s my name?”

Hermione stretched out on the sofa with a teasing grin. As if she had accio’d him, Draco was out of the chair and kneeling over her form. Pulling him down by his collar, Hermione caught his lips in a deep kiss.

“Tell me,” she whispered, biting his lower lip, “what’s my name?”

“Hermione,” he groaned, “Hermione Jean Malfoy.”


	6. Chapter 6

_-May 10th 2003-_

Ron would just not leave it alone. Seething, Hermione crossed into the kitchen needing space between them. Tears pricked at her eyes and that frustrated her even more. Merlin, she couldn’t even remember how this one had started.

“‘Moine I don’t see why this is a big deal, you’re the one who plans bloody everything!”

Leaning against the counter, Hermione stared into the sink. A house. He wanted them to buy a house.

“I’m not saying I don’t want a house, Ron, but we only just moved here! I thought you liked living in London - it’s near Harry, it’s where you and I work!”

She was trying desperately to sound calm, but that only seemed to irk him more. She could feel him teeth grind and it sent shivers down her spine.

“I do love London! But I also want space! Greenery!”

Turning to face him, she tried to make him understand, “Ron, houses are expensive, they are a lot of work --”

“Magic, Hermione. We have magic. We aren’t muggles.”

It took all her will not to slap him.

“Ron, I get it. But there is no sense in buying a house now that we don’t need.”

His eyes held hers, “there will be.”

Flinching, Hermione felt sick to her stomach. So that was what this was about.

“Look,” he stepped closer, “I’m trying to plan for our future together? Why is that so scary? Don’t you want a future with me?

“Ron, stop pushing me. You know how I feel. I’m not ready.”

“Ready? Hermione no one is ever ready.”

She held up her hands, “Ron, I know going back for the anniversary was difficult. The memories still wake me up at night. But it’s over. We’re safe. Their is no need to rush into anything.”

Ron exploded.

“Don’t patronize me, Hermione! This is not about the past, it’s about the future! We aren’t teenagers anymore, and this is what adults do! God, I thought women were supposed to be baby crazy! We haven’t shagged in two weeks and don’t think I don’t know why. I agreed to wait, so why are you still pushing me away?”

“This? This is you waiting? Ron I've never seen you so obsessed! The last time you were this crazy was when the Cannon’s made it to the World Cup! And telling me we should buy a house -- is that supposed to make me feel better about our future? That’s what you think planning ahead means?”

“Buying a house is just one step! It’s not a big deal!”

Hermione shook her head, “it is a big deal. We haven’t even told anyone about our engagement, and you want to spend money on a house?”

Ron huffed, “it’s not about the damn money, Hermione. You’re scared, so am I. But we can do this! I mean, look at Ginny! My mother had Bill when she was younger than we are now!”

Hand clenched in a fist, she was sure she would have hexed him, “that’s different. Ginny has a completely different career that allowed her to take time off! And she has Harry! He is the one who wants to stays home with the baby!”

Ron’s voice dropped, “You think I’m not going to help you?”

“I think you want me to be your mother.”

She might as well have slapped him. Ron had gone pale, apparently lost for words. But part of her was relieved that she had finally said it.

Quietly, Hermione tried to explain.

“I won’t be trapped in the Burrow taking care of children for the rest of my life. I’m sorry, Ron. But that’s not me,” she wiped away the tears that had finally escaped, “I want a family, Ron. I do. But not yet.”

Ron’s face was blank and he didn’t even seem to be breathing. Turning, he disappeared down the hall. The bedroom door slammed and Hermione finally released her grip on the counter top. The engagement ring on her finger sparkled, and she had the sudden desire to throw it as far from her as possible. Hands shaking, Hermione pulled her purse from a chair and dug inside for her blackberry. With a hesitant grip on her wand, she apparated.

The park was small, but had a scattering of trees and bushes, so she felt safe apparating in broad daylight. The sounds of London filled her ears and Hermione took a deep breath. Punching in a phone number, she made her way to an empty bench.

“Mum?”

* * *

_-September 3rd 2003-_

Hermione bit into the sandwich and immediately wished she had gone with the soup instead. But recently she couldn’t help but reach for the meatiest, grossest sandwich available. Swallowing the bite, she dropped it back onto her plate. This was getting ridiculous.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Harry fell into the seat next to her, the same look he always had plastered on his face. It was a mix of exhaustion and joy. He had fallen headfirst into fatherhood and was loving every moment.

The pain in her chest returned; despite his job and the baby, Harry still made time for her. Whenever possible Harry would join her in the Ministry cafe or take her out for lunch.

As Head Auror he spent less time in the field and more time in his office, so she saw him fairly regularly. He had taken the position not long ago, and Hermione had worried that it was on her behalf. She had fallen hard when Ron left, but Harry didn’t need to be pulled down with her.

But then Ginny had explained.

“It’s his parents,” the redhead sighed, “ever since James was born I know he’s been worried. It’s as if he just realized how dangerous his job is.”

She carefully set James back into the carriage, and they continued walking, “he is so afraid of James growing up without knowing him. Honestly, when the head Auror retired it was fate. But he does actually enjoy it.”

“I know, I know,” Ginny laughed, “Harry Potter, the Chosen One, excited over a desk job.”

She blinked, realizing he had been speaking.

“Sorry?”

Harry only grinned and pushed a muggle tupperware towards her.

“Here, Molly made it,” he ignored her protests, “Food, Hermione. Eat. You were the same way during exams. You work too hard and forget to eat. It’s not good.”

The pain in her chest returned at his implication. But the sandwich would only be thrown away, and she was hungry. Grateful, Hermione opened the container to find a large slice of casserole.

“Molly seems to think we aren’t capable of feeding ourselves,” Harry rolled his eyes, “It would be far more helpful if she sent nappies instead.”

Grinning, she lifted her fork and dug into the cold meal. This was better.

“Now,” Harry grinned, munching on a chip, “as I was saying...”

He trailed off and Hermione looked up in surprise. It was Draco Malfoy. She couldn’t believe it.

“Potter.”

Harry nodded politely, “Malfoy.”

The man looked like he wanted to dive under a rock. And she couldn’t blame him: everyone was staring. Hermione knew that feeling all too well.  It was three, almost four months now, when Ron’s disappearance had made the cover of the Daily Prophet. And for weeks all anyone did was stare at her with pity.

But she noted, that was not how they were looking at Malfoy. Fear, disgust and even anger was evident in their eyes.

“I just wanted to say thank you again for the offer.”

Harry nodded, “of course. I hope you will consider it.”

His grey eyes turned towards her and Hermione froze. She knew that expression. Malfoy was trying very hard not to look broken.

“Hello, Granger.”

Doing her best to smile, she responded in kind.

“Hello, Dra-- Malfoy. I heard you were back in London. I’m glad.”

For a moment she saw the schoolboy, “Are you? Then you’re the only one.”

Slowly the other patrons seemed to lose interest, once they realized he was speaking to Harry. Turning back to their conversations, the cafe grew in volume. Hermione couldn’t help but study their old school foe.

He was taller now, but unlike Harry or Ron his physique was much thinner. Malfoy’s hair had darkened to a golden blond and it fell about his face in the unkempt style of a fashion model. But unlike a model the dullness in his eyes was not an act. His sentence in Azkaban had been over a year ago, but Hermione saw a man whose soul no longer remained.

Dementors had not been used since the war, of course, but Draco Malfoy looked haunted nonetheless.

“How is your mother?”

Hermione stared at Harry in surprise, but Malfoy only nodded.

“Well. She at least is glad to be back. She appreciates your letters. Thank you.”

Hermione felt her jaw drop. Harry Potter had been writing to Narcissa Malfoy? And Draco Malfoy was thanking him for it?

Harry smiled, “I’m only sorry I didn’t write sooner. Oh, and I heard about the Manor. I am sorry for you both. Was it the Ministry’s doing? Hermione is a very good lawyer--”

Malfoy cut him off, “Don’t be. It was my decision.”

An awkward silence fell and Hermione reached for her coffee. She had read that the Manor was going to be knocked down, but she hadn’t been that sorry. But it had been his choice? That was surprising.

Hermione caught his eye as he bowed his head,

“Good day.”

Draco Malfoy spun around and left the cafe as quickly as possible. Hermione couldn’t help but stare at his retreating figure. The last time she had seen him in person was during the battle.

“What... was that?”

Harry was once again eating his chips, as if the previous moment had been completely ordinary. Surprised, he followed her gaze, and nodded in understanding. Casually resting his hand on his wand, Harry cast muffliato.

“Oh, well, I am trying to get Malfoy to take my old position.”

Eyes wide, Hermione stared at her best friend. He wanted to recruit an ex-Death Eater?

She could have sworn there was a muggle film with the same plot. But... it did make sense. Who better to catch a criminal, than another criminal? Of course, Draco wasn't a criminal -- but he had know them first hand.

“That’s quite a good idea, actually. Malfoy certainly understands far more about Dark Magic then anyone on staff. He was quite good at dueling too, wasn’t he? And not far behind my marks at Hogwarts. And it probably would help with his public persona, especially if you hired him.”

Hermione was impressed. Clapping her on the back, Harry looked relieved.

“I knew you would understand. It’s been a tough sell.”

“With the department?”

Harry sighed, “No, with Malfoy.”

Hermione felt that same pull in her chest, “Oh.”

She couldn’t imagine what he had been through, during or after the war. Malfoy had been out of Azkaban for a couple years now, and only recently returned to London. What had he been doing since?

“You’ve been writing his mother?”

Dipping the last chip into the ketchup, Harry shrugged.

“It was right after the anniversary. It got me thinking, and I realized that I had never thanked her. After all, she lied to Voldemort. It saved my life and, I think, ended the war that much faster.”

He stared ahead and Hermione knew he was reliving it all. Each anniversary was a struggle, and yet Harry went every year. But why had Mrs. Malfoy suddenly struck a chord with him?

She thought again of what Ginny had said, about why Harry had taken a desk job despite his love of the field.

“She was a parent trying to keep her child safe.”

Harry nodded.

For the first time in a long time, the emotion in her chest was a happy one. She took her friend's hand and squeezed it, “Harry, that was very kind of you.”

Abashed, he looked away, “We’ve written a couple times, actually. She is a very interesting woman. And, well, when she mentioned Draco having trouble finding work it just made sense.”

Hermione nodded, “I never even considered it. Afterall, they were the only one’s acquitted during the trials. But I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for them since.”

Sighing, Harry took a last sip from his glass and stood from the table.

“Me neither. But I do think he will be a good fit as an Auror,” he brushed off his robes, and flashed her a grin, “Now, eat. I will see you later.”

* * *

 

-Tuesday-

Kicking of his shoes, Draco stretched out his arms, fingers tracing the ceiling. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the constant apparating and running in the field or the dredge of paperwork.

Hanging his Auror robes, Draco slowly made his way to the kitchen. Hermione would not be home for a few more hours; Tuesday was when the Ministry held the hearings from her clients. She would arrive home tired and hungry -- and depending on the case, exasperated or furious.

Resting his elbows on the balcony, Draco’s thoughts drifted back to Weasley. The so called party was creeping closer. Despite Harry’s assurance that all would go well, Draco was more rational. While seeing the weasel on their doorstep had been a shock, Draco had been more worried for Hermione. But she had handled it just fine. Ron had not.

Hermione wanted him by her side during ‘the talk’ and Draco would be there. But at the same time, Draco knew his presence would add more fuel to the fire. Ron very much seemed the type to hold on to schoolyard fights. And he was also someone who made his wife cry, something that Draco did not like at all.

He could care less what Weasley thought of him. But Hermione was off limits.

Ron wouldn’t be the first who opposed their marriage, or even of them dating. It had been incredibly hard to keep it out of the press. But it was more personal to Hermione, Ron, despite everything, had been her friend. Draco’s only fear was from Lucius, but his father had died in Azkaban far before the wedding. Even now, Draco couldn’t see why she was so loyal to the red head -- but he knew better than to suggest cutting Ron out of the picture.

It had taken several months before Hermione had fully adjusted to her ex-boyfriend’s cowardly escape. When Draco finally did ask her out, there were moments when Hermione would sadden and fall silent. Other times, she would snap out suddenly. And as they became serious, Hermione felt more and more guilty when Ron crept back into her head.

But Draco had brought his own burdens into the relationship, and somehow they aligned. Hermione slowly cleansed the war from his soul, carefully closing that terrible open wound. And he, Draco hoped, had slowly erased Ron and his betrayal from her heart.

And now Weasley had returned, the dreaded ex-. And he was proof enough, that the public was not ready for a hero to marry the enemy.

It was why they had kept the relationship quiet for so long. Hermione was a war heroine and the wizarding world adored her. The trio was practically royalty. Draco was the dirt beneath her feet. Even being seen with him was something that ended up on the front page. According to the reporters, he was nothing more than a coward on the wrong side of the war. And despite her objections, Draco tended to agree.

But he would never dump his fiance and disappear for three years.

Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, Draco stared down at his piano.

“Tink.”

With a pop, the house elf appeared.

“Yes, Master Draco?”

“Hermione should be home after 8. Can you have dinner ready then?”

Tink bowed, “and what would the Master like for dinners?”

Heading down the staircase, Draco found his way to the piano, “Something simple. You know all of her favorites.”

Tink bowed again, the little elf now standing beside the piano. Sitting at the bench, Draco tapped out a few tunes, letting himself relax.

“How is my mother faring?”

“Well, Master.” Tink answered, “she is still decorating the house and spends most of her time in the garden. Her appetite is back, and Libby says her flu is done.”

Draco nodded, and began to play one of his favorite pieces. It might be too much to ask this weekend, but they should probably visit her Sunday.

A knock at the door surprised him; the wards had not sounded. Standing, Draco went to the front door.

It was Robbie.

The kid was nervous, dancing back and forth on his toes.

“Tink, stay.”

Hermione was better at this than him, but nonetheless Draco opened the door.

“Hello Robbie.”

Robbie blushed, “Is Misses Hermione home?”

“Not yet,” Draco paused, “but you can speak with me if you like.”

Blushing again, Robbie looked around wildly.

“It -- it happened again,” he whispered, “Misses Hermione says this happens because I’m a... wizard.”

Hermione was right, his magic was quite unstable, Malfoy hadn’t even had time to lower the wards. But magic had always been completely normal to Draco, and he had never been afraid of his abilities. She understood what Robbie was experiencing. Pulling the door open, the little boy hopped through.

“My-- Hermione told you that she was a witch?”

Robbie laughed nervously, “ahuh.”

“Well, I’m a wizard. Like you.”

Robbie shook his head, “No-no, that’s not real.”

“Come on,” Draco waved, “there is someone you should meet.”

Nodding, Robbie followed Draco back into the living room and screamed. Immediately, Tink disappeared.

“No, it’s alright!” Draco motioned him forward, “here, sit with me on the sofa.”

Once Robbie was settled, Draco snapped his fingers. Tink appeared again, bowing.

“This is Tink, he is a house-elf. He is a magical creature and very real.”

With a hesitant look back to him, Robbie slowly reached out his hand.

“Hello, Mr...uh, Tink.”

Tink flapped his ears nervously, but offered his small hand to the boy.

“You can feel his magic?”

“Oh yes, Master Malfoy, he is got’s lots of it.” Tink grinned, “like Misses.”

Robbie smiled nervously, pulling his hand back.

“Tink is a house elf. And he can do lots of magical things,” Draco grinned, “Tink, please bring us a toy from Robbie’s bedroom.”

With a pop Tink was gone, and Robbie jumped in surprise. Not a moment later Tink appeared again with a toy car.

“Hey!” Robbie took the toy in shock, “...can I do that?”

Draco grinned, “Someday, yes. But you know how your parents have driver’s license? Well, to do that spell you will have to pass a test first.”

Robbie nodded seriously, the truck forgotten.

“Thank you Tink, you may go.”

With a pop the house elf disappeared again, and Robbie giggled.

Draco pulled his wand out from his sleeve. Robbie’s eyes went wide, and he cautiously touched the thin wooden stick.

“What happened?”

Robbie fidgeted, snatching back his hand, “I was watching telly, but Danny came home and wanted to watch badminton. He made me leave. I was angry, and the -- the things all started moving! The pictures and table in the hall and the carpet.”

Draco nodded, “that’s normal. Until you get a wand sometimes your magic does odd things when you’re angry or excited.”

“But what if I hurt someone?”

His chest tightened, and Draco was very aware of the Dark Mark on his skin.

“You worry you might hurt your brother if you get angry?”

Robbie nodded furiously.

For that Draco actually had an answer.

“I promise you won’t hurt him. Hermione made sure that you won’t.”

The boy gaped at him, “she did?”

Draco nodded, “With a spell.”

It was not a complete lie; Hermione had set up a basic anti-muggle spell around the boy. And until his Hogwarts letter, it was really all that could be done. Robbie looked incredibly relived.

The grandfather clock struck 6 and the bell chimed. Eyes wide, Robbie jumped down and took his toy.

“I have supper!”

Standing, Draco nodded, “alright. And as Mrs. Hermione said, you can come over anytime.”

The boy grinned, all fear gone from his face.

“She told you to keep this a secret, right?”

Robbie nodded vigorously. Hiding a grin, Draco pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the door,

“Alohamora.”

It swung open. Eyes bright, Robbie scampered out the door, yelling over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Mister ...er, Hermione!”

Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two flashbacks, and then Draco
> 
> Please let me know if the flashbacks are confusing. I am enjoying writing them out of order, but if it gets too confusing then I'm doing something wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

_-Thursday-_

It was late and Harry was ready to fall into bed. He glanced at the grandfather clock -- only 8:42. But with two small children who would be up before dawn, it may as well have been midnight.

Handing a beer over to Ron, Harry collapsed into the sofa. Ginny was in a plush chair, slowly sipping decaf tea. It had taken several days but Ginny had finally remembered that she had in fact missed her brother.

Ron sipped his beer, looking more like his old self. The man who had fainted in their sitting room was hopefully gone for good. But Harry knew Ron well enough to see that he was hiding something. There was some deeper reason for Ron’s distress. Harry hoped he was wrong.

Removing his glasses, Harry wiped them on his sleeve. He wasn’t even sure where to begin. Three years of letters, and yet, there was so much left unsaid.

“So, Mom said you were telling them about America?”

Ron nodded, and Ginny glanced at him pleadingly. Taking a medicinal gulp, Harry went in.

“Ron, mate. What finally brought you back?”

It was a long few seconds before he spoke. “I needed space when I left... I needed to grieve. But the longer I stayed, the harder it was to go back. Then one day I woke up and realized how far I was from home. And I was a coward for staying away this long.”

Ron shot a careful glance at Ginny, “I missed her. The whole time. But then it got unbearable; I needed to come back. I didn’t -- it wasn’t my plan to win her back. I didn’t think she would be waiting for me. Despite what you think, I do know Hermione. I knew she would have moved on or gotten her life back in order. She’s very pragmatic, unlike me.” Ron sighed. “I knew she would be angry at my return -- so I figured, why not just go? Show up, talk and apologize. Then I was going to wait and see if she even wanted me back.”

Harry found it hard to swallow. Maybe this wasn’t the boy with the brash temper. Ron’s reaction was completely understandable. It was Hermione who had kept him in the dark all these years. Ron had at least tried to do the right thing.

Ginny was crying softly, though Harry knew she would blame it on hormones. Ron shrugged, and Harry wished he knew what to say. Both had made mistakes in the relationship -- or in Hermione’s case, after the relationship. It was bound to happen. In Harry’s opinion the break up had been a long time coming. Ultimately, Hermione fit better with Draco.

But where did that leave Ron?

“So tell me more about this party of mine.”

Ginny finally spoke, “it’s just some old friends coming over for drinks. People who’ve missed you. And Mum and Dad decided they want to be there as well. But they will still take the kids for the night. Still unsure if Charlie will be there...” her hand clenched, “we thought, after the party, just us and um, Hermione could sit down and talk.”

Ron nodded, but Harry could see how tense he had become. He could practically feel it.

“Another beer, mate?”

Harry didn’t wait for a response, simply heading to the kitchen. If this was the Ron who came to the party, then their was hope yet. But this was also the man who had snuck into a quidditch match simply to spy on his ex. His head throbbed; two days were all that remained until the party. Where any of them ready?

“--yeah, the last place I stayed was a funny little town in Connecticut.”

Returning with two fresh bottles, Harry tossed one to Ron and gratefully fell back onto the sofa.

“So you spent most of your time in America?”

Ron nodded, “Yeah, it’s bloody huge. And depending where you are, it’s completely different. I mean you can always spot a Scot wizard. But there, god, there were so many communities -- all calling themselves American.

I spent some time in New York City, California... The NYC ones were all business. Lots of new spells being invented, always working. Loads of fun. Completely bonkers.”

Ron smiled in remembrance. It was the first time Harry had seen the man smile since his return.

“So you had a good time.”

Ron glanced at his sister, “Yeah, for the most part. I mean it was hard to be away from everyone. And lots of things were different -- Quidditch is not as popular, they don’t wear robes as often. And they all love muggle television. No matter where I went, everyone had a T.V.”

Ron quieted and Harry knew why. Hermione had never wanted to give up television and Ron had quite understood it. TV had been another reason behind their many arguments.

Ron changed the subject, “America did have stricter laws when it came to muggles though. In some places it’s still illegal to marry one. Call ‘em No-maj. But otherwise they have no issue about blood status. A bit of an issue with race though.

You had to get permission to apparate from one state to the next unless you had a ‘wink’. I might still have it somewhere, I used the tourist one --a thin red band they put on your wand. Lots of different ones. Not cheap.”

Ron ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self conscious, “I’ve said most of this in my letters, not sure what I’ve already told you. But I can tell you for sure, that Voldemort would not have stood a chance in America. Not even close. And lots of ‘em didn’t even knew about the war, isn’t that mad?”

Harry nodded, “yeah, that’s... blimey, I can’t imagine.”

Most of what Ron said had been in his letters, but it was different now. Reading the letters had always been an ordeal, Harry never really processed what they said. He was constantly expecting bad news, like Ron had met someone new -- and then of course, dodging questions about Hermione.

For a moment only the tick of the grandfather clock was heard. Ron kept glancing back and forth between he and Ginny, hand clenched on the bottle.

“For goodness sake, Ronald, what do you want to ask?”

Harry smirked, Ginny had no problem asking the blunt questions. It was what made her a such a good Quidditch reporter.

Ron looked miserable again, “I -- well, why did she never write to me?”

Rubbing his eye, Harry wanted to trade his beer in for a coffee. Thankfully Ginny answered.

“She wanted to write Ron, I know she did. When we received your letters she always read them. But, I think as first Hermione didn’t know what to say.”

Hermione Granger, the witch who could write a twelve inch scroll in one night when it wasn’t due for a week -- she suddenly was unable to write a full sentence. Alone or here with them, Hermione would spend hours staring at blank paper.

“She did compose some letters,” Ginny added, “but she couldn’t send them. But in the last year Hermione was with us when we wrote to you. So, even though she didn’t write it herself, they were her sentiments.”

Harry took another sip of beer, impressed how Ginny had stretched the truth. Three years back, Hermione’s hurt and shock had quickly morphed into anger and annoyance. Honestly, it was far better that Hermione never sent the letters she had drafted. And when she ‘helped’ them when they wrote back to Ron? It was only to make sure Draco and the engagement remained a secret.

Ginny wiped her face, “uh, Ron, I have a question.”

Her brother shrugged.

“When you arrived here on Friday -- as you fainted, you said something?”

Ron looked confused, glancing between them, “yeah. You said I never had the balls to propose. But I did.”

Harry was sure he had just been hexed.

“What?” Ginny choked out the question.

“I proposed to her on Valentines. She wanted to think it over, so we kept it quiet. But she did accept.” Ron sat up in his chair, “Wait, Hermione never told you?”

He and Ginny glanced at each other. No, Hermione had never once mentioned this.

She had always been touchy about the subject, and so they had stopped asking. They had assumed it was why she was so heartbroken.

“You proposed to her in February?”

Knuckles white, Ron nodded.

Harry forced himself to stay calm. He had to think this over. Valentine’s was nearly four months before Ron had left. And afterwards, he and Ginny had been with Hermione almost every moment. She kept this from them. Why?

“She never mentioned it... I swear, I never saw a ring. Did you gave her a ring?” Ginny’s voice cracked as it rose to a higher pitch. The Weasley temper was coming out, but now it was aimed at Hermione.

“Did Mum and Dad know?”

“No, I mean -- I had discussed the idea with Dad, but...” Ron trailed off, gripping tightly to the empty bottle, “the night, the night I left, she threw it at me. But I... really, she never mentioned it?”

That was the final straw for Ronald Weasley. With a crash, Ron’s beer fell and soaked into the carpet. Head in his hands, Ron moaned loudly. Ginny was instantly on her feet, flicking away the spilt beer and resting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

Rocking back and forth, his oldest friend groaned as if he were in pain. “I just -- I just can’t understand it! Why him? Why did she choose him? I didn’t mean to be away that long, I just -- I just -- and now she’s married? To a fucking Death Eater?”

Flinching from his sister, Ron stood with blazing eyes. Harry stood with him, wand clenched to his side.

“Ron, mate.”

But he was turning redder by the second, “I’ve got--I’ve got to go.”

“Ron,” Harry barked, and his friend jerked in surprise, “You should go back to your hotel. Or the Burrow. No where else, do you hear me?”

But Ron was visibly cracking.

“Go home Ron. Get some sleep.” Harry kept his sentences short and clear. As an Auror he had dealt with far too many witches and wizards whose foolish behavior had lead to dire consequences. They only ever made the situation worse. He loved Ron, but there were strict rules to follow.

Ron shook his head, and spun, “I can’t, sorry.”

And he was gone.

“Shit,” Ginny muttered, “next time we are switching his beer with a calming draught. Hermione is not going to like this.”

Sighing, Harry lowered his wand. The tracker would alert any nearby Auror’s to his presence. It wasn’t permanent, but at least Draco would have forewarning if Ron did infact go to Marigold Way.

“I alerted Draco, if Ron does show up, he’ll know.”

Ginny looked worried, “is that a good idea?”

“Draco knows the rules. I trust him to follow protocol.” The ache in his body had multiplied. “I never thought I’d have to use it on a friend.”

Ginny rubbed at her temples, “I just can’t believe it. He proposed to her? And she never said anything? Merlin, I don’t know who I’m more furious with!”

Pulling her into a quick hug, Harry wondered the same thing. He prayed that Saturday would go well.

* * *

 

Apparating into the flat as normal, Draco immediately kicked off his shoes. He was frustrated and tired, and glad to be home. Today’s new lead had been a complete bust. He had spent the day chasing a suspect who turned out to be nothing but a stupid teenager. It was infuriating. Running a hand through his hair, Draco glanced over to his wife.

As usual she was perched on the sofa, deaf to anything that was not the page in front of her. But, Draco noted, she was not reading her normal array of case files. Instead, her nose was buried in a novel.

Bending down to kiss her cheek, he was pleasantly surprised when her hands latched onto his cloak. Pulling him close, book falling to the floor, Hermione kissed him hard. Grinning, he returned it.

She was in a very good mood.

“Hello,” Draco grinned. Gripping her waist, he gently settled gently upon her lap. His Auror robes were thrown aside, and when their mouths finally separated Draco was already hard. Hermione shuddered as he leaned into her.

“Hi, how was work?”

“No, no, no,” Draco pushed her back against the sofa, kissing her neck, “no talking.”

She laughed, leaning her head to the side, "You Slytherin's never could be patient.”

Draco bit her collarbone, "No. Never."

Rolling her hips into his, Hermione’s fingers quickly undid the buttons on his shirt. Forced to release his grip on her, Draco hastily flung the shirt away. Bringing his arms back, he carefully pulled her navy blouse over her head. Despite her warm skin, the silk was cool to the touch. The scent of perfume drifted from her skin, making his balls ache.

Her arms came down to rest on his shoulders, and she lightly nipped at his neck. The scrape of her teeth sent shocks down his spine. Draco quickly unhooked the muggle brassiere, letting it hang from her arms. She shivered when he covered her breasts with his hands, goosebumps blooming over her body.

Giggling softly, Hermione arched into his touch. But that quickly became a gasp when he bent down and took a nipple in his mouth.

“Yes.”

Her voice sent a another shock straight to his cock, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. God, he loved this women.

Grinding into her lap, cock heavy in his trousers, Draco switched to her other nipple. Soft hands wrapped around his back, gently tracing his spine, nails occasionally digging into his skin. He could feel how tense her body had become -- Hermione was as impatient as he was. Surfacing from her breasts, he found her mouth again.

The heat of a tracking spell was an unpleasant interruption.

Now? Draco was going to curse the bastard who had interrupted them. Hermione, sat up in surprise, recognizing that something had changed.

“What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Draco closed his eyes and focused on the spell.

“Auror tracking spell...” his eyes flickered towards the front door. He didn’t need to guess who it was, or who had cast the spell.

Shaking his head, Draco let himself relax. Kissing Hermione softly, he left his hands drift back onto her breasts. No one was going to ruin this moment.

“It’s fine. They’ve gone. Another Auror can deal with it.”

Silencing her attempt to ask any more questions, Draco slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Crushing her breasts in his palms, he knew just how to tickle her skin.

Hermione caved; relaxing back into the sofa, kissing him with the same fervor from before. He grinned as her hands went for his belt.

“I think,” he said between kisses, “you should be the one on top.”

Nodding hurriedly, Hermione continued to suck all the air from his lungs. Chests pressed together, mouths never pausing, Draco carefully rolled them over.

They made use of this new position to rid themselves of any remaining outer clothing. Lifting his hips, she quickly tugged his trousers down his legs. His cock sprang free, and Hermione gripped it firmly. Her thumb circled the tip, then slowly began pumping the shaft. Hissing at the contact, Draco explored her mouth with a fierce need. Two could play this game.

Unzipping her trousers, Draco rubbed her soaked panties with the heel of his hand. He loved the taste of her, but now was not the time. Especially if she kept tugging on his cock like that. Meeting his eye, Hermione grinned coyly, cheeks flushed.

He pulled his hand free, rubbing his heel back over her clit, causing her body to shiver.

“Draco,” she panted, releasing his cock with a last squeeze. Rising further onto her knees, Draco easily pulled her trousers and panties down. Pressing her chest into his, Hermione managed to kick the garments off, whole body quivering.

Taking hold of him, Hermione carefully sank down. She was warm and tight and so very wet. Draco groaned with relief as she took all of him at once. Burying his head between her breasts, Draco let themselves meld into the feeling.

“I love you, witch.”

He felt her grin, and then she began to move.

Gripping her round cheeks, Draco held on tight. There was no build up, Hermione was already riding him hard and fast. Cock throbbing inside her, Draco watched her eyes clench shut and mouth fall open. Her breasts bounced in front of his face, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Yes, Draco.”

Slowing her pace, Draco took his turn to gently thrust up his hips. Merlin, he loved it when she was on top. Hermione was biting her lip, eyes closed as he continued. For as long as he could, he kept his pace slow.

With a ball tightening moan, Hermione wrapped herself around his neck, slamming herself down again.

Meeting her mouth, Draco sped up, shoving himself as far into her as he could. Hermione responded in kind, the sound of her bum slapping his thighs speeding up. It was painful, how hard he was, and how warm and moist she was. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and judging by her cries, neither was Hermione. Her lips found his, tongues battling between panting breaths.

Shaking, bodies sprinkled with perspiration, Draco let everything go. Hermione rode him hard, breasts bouncing in front of his face. Freeing a hand, Draco rubbed his thumb over her clit, matching their speed.

Hermione cried out again, dropping her head onto his shoulder. She tightened around him, and Draco knew it was coming.

Her orgasm was a wave that shook her whole body, fingers digging into his skin, mouth heavy on his neck. He loved every second, continuing to thrust deep inside her tightening walls.

With a moan he finally came, the ecstasy of release leaving him boneless and quivering.

Hugging her tightly, he rocked back and forth, not yet ready to separate. Hermione’s hot breath tickled his ear as she snuggled into his embrace.

Letting his eyes close, Draco placed a soft kiss on his wife’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to write as I am never sure about how well my sex-scenes turn out. But I figured it was time for them to get it on  
> also, a surprise twist!


	8. Chapter 8

_-October 31 2003-_

James was screaming. And he had been for the last five minutes. Hermione took that as her sign to leave.

Harry and Ginny were trying desperately to quiet the five month old, but James was relentless. Hermione was not the only one cringing -- everyone at the table had the same forced smile. Supper had ended and she had just finished her third glass of wine. She had never finished a glass so quickly before, but it was the only thing keeping her teeth from clenching.

George and Angelina seemed content to finish the bottle of red; apparently if the screaming baby wasn’t yours, the noise was but an inconvenience.  

Neville stood first, glancing at his watch.

“Sorry mate, but I have to get back to the castle. All the professors are on patrol tonight. You remember what it was like during Halloween. But I had a lovely time.”

Harry, circles under his eyes, nodded, “Sure thing, Neville. Glad you could make it.”

“Tell Ginny everything was delicious.”

And with that, Neville Longbottom headed out of Grimmauld Place. Catching Draco’s eye, Hermione gave a quick nod to his unspoken question.

Ginny returned from the loo and with a flick of her wand sent the remaining dishes towards the kitchen. George snatched a biscuit as it flew past.

“Sorry about James. He isn’t happy unless he’s nearby. Weaning is not going too well.”

Hermione shook her head, “It’s not a problem. And really he has good timing, if I drink any more I won’t be able to apparate.”

Harry snorted, the bassinet by his side bouncing back and forth. It seemed to be helping; James had gone from a screech to a heavy sob.

Ginny ignored her husband, “Alright love, thanks for joining. I will see you Sunday?”

Standing, Hermione gave Ginny a hug, “of course.”

“Yes, thanks ‘Moine,” Harry added, finishing his own glass of wine, “glad we could get you out of the office. Finally.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out and Harry laughed. Merlin, she was more drunk than she thought. Floo was also out of the question.

“I will take my leave as well.” Draco stood, nodding to Ginny, “thank you for the meal.”

Rolling her eyes, the redhead grinned, “oh yes, I’m glad we could save you from a night with your mother.”

Draco smirked, “thought you might enjoy some adult conversation for once.”

Hermione hid a grin. Draco had really come out of his shell the past few weeks.

“You survived your first month, Malfoy. We had to celebrate.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco tried to look annoyed, “Potter, if there are balloons on my desk on Monday, I will hex you. Especially the singing ones”

George grinned, “glad to be of service.”

Hermione’s chest tightened and she looked away. It wasn’t fair, but as much as George could make her laugh -- lately his presence only made her sad. Ron had abandoned him as well, leaving George to run Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes alone.  

Harry held a finger to his lips and pointed at the bassinet. Draco saluted as Ginny shooed him away. Seeing her escape, Hermione waved farewell and stepped into the hall.

“You’re not going to apparate, are you?”

Startled, Hermione spun around. She meant to glare, but instead had to catch herself on the wall. Draco smirked, silently handing over her jacket and scarf. Of course he could handle his liquor, why was she even surprised.

With as much dignity as possible, Hermione twisted the scarf around her throat and slipped on her jacket.

“I’m going to walk for a bit. Cool night air, and all.”

Nodding, Malfoy followed her down the hall and opened the front door. She rolled her eyes as he held the door for her, but stepped out anyway. The cool night air felt lovely on her face and with only a slight grasp on the iron rail, made her way to the street.

Realizing he was still beside her, Hermione paused, “you’re going to walk as well?”

The damn wizard only grinned, “No, I am fully capable of apparating home.”

Sticking her nose in the air, Hermione did her best pureblood impression, “whatever.”

That got a laugh from him and he took her by the arm.

“I can take you home, if you like?”

Hermione’s face grew hot, and she stuttered for a reply.

“Your home, Granger.”

Embarrassed, she stared down the dark street, “no, thank you. I don’t mind walking.”

Why she was so embarrassed, Hermione wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly impossible to look Draco in the eye.

“Alright,“ his tone was humorous, and if possible she blushed more. Hermione was glad at least that he didn’t insist. She was perfectly capable of walking the streets of London. Even if she was a bit tipsy.

“Well, good night Ma-- Draco. Happy Halloween.” Hermione flashed what she hoped was an easy grin, and tried to pull away.

Instead, large, warm hands cradled her face and pulled her closer. Soft lips pressed against hers, and Hermione froze. It was a gentle kiss, but Hermione could feel the passion behind it. Maybe it was the wine, but after a moment her hands gripped his wool coat and she nervously kissed him back.

When Draco finally pulled away his face had a faint flush. Breath white in the night air, he grinned at her.

“Happy Halloween, Granger.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

  _-May 19, 2003 - PART 1-_

“Ron, why won’t you listen to me?” her fingernails were tearing into her palm, “we are together now. Why is that not enough? Look at us! You can’t honestly think --” Hermione cut herself off, “God, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

Ron slammed his fist on the kitchen table,“Bloody fuckin’ hell, here she goes again! How can you stand talking to someone as dumb as me? How can you bear to be near me? Afterall I’m just the useless sod who copied off you throughout school, the useless sidekick, might as well have been a golden duo --”

“Shut up, Ron.” Her chest ached from the crying and yelling, and the skin under her eyes stung. God she was so sick of this. She was so tired of it all. Tired of him.

“No, Hermione! I won’t! I’m trying to fight for us!”

She was very close to killing him. How did they always end up back here? She and Ron were back at it again. The house. The career. Marriage. Pushing, always pushing!

“Such a happy couple. When was the last time we fit that mold, Ron?”

As expected, Ron immediately became defensive. But she hadn’t meant it sarcastically, even if her voice was shriller than she liked. Hermione meant it honestly. When was their last happy memory? Even she couldn’t remember. For the past few weeks all she knew was fighting.

“You don’t want to get married, you don’t want to have my children, you won’t even consider leaving and getting away for a bit,” Ron was pacing again, like a wild animal ready to strike. “We haven’t shagged in weeks. Hell, you flinch if I even try to kiss you. Do you even want to be with me?

Hermione couldn’t remember if she had cast a silencing charm, but maybe it would be a good thing if someone called the cops.

“Is it the ring? Is it too small? Did I pick the wrong one? Is it ugly or...? What is it? WHAT? I mean wizards don’t even have that bloody tradition! How am I supposed to know which muggle ring is best?! Knew I’d get it wrong--”

All she wanted to do was collapse into bed. It was late and they both had work tomorrow. But these fights only ended when one of them stormed off in anger. Hermione was so tired of it all.

But something inside was about to snap.

* * *

 

_-January 11, 2004-_

Giggling, Hermione hid her blush by taking another sip of wine. Draco wasn’t sure what made him laugh harder, Harry’s version of events or Ginny slapping him upside the head.

“It wasn’t like I hid under my cloak!” Harry defended, “I just...didn’t immediately alert her to my presence.”

“Harry, I’m flattered. Teenage girls like knowing that they are attractive -- even if I did hex you out of the room.”

The Boy Who Lived winced, “God, I didn’t know what to do. I mean, ‘Moine, you’re my sister. And then suddenly, there you were in a bra and panties. I couldn’t exactly tell Ron, he woulda killed me! The twins never woulda kept quiet about it. I almost told Remus...”

“No, you didn’t!” At that Hermione turned bright red.

Harry shifted in his seat, “no, I didn’t. But that was also why I stopped practicing occlumency with you. Couldn’t let you see in my head.”

Snorting, Draco only grinned when Hermione elbowed him in the side.

“Boys! Is that all you boys ever thought about?”

Grinning, Draco shrugged, “At 16? Yeah.”

Running a hand through his hair, Harry looked grateful, “exactly! And sixth year wasn’t easy! I mean what else was there to do? Stalk Malfoy?”

Ginny snorted into her whiskey, flashing him a grin.

“You could have asked me out sooner.”

Harry Potter wrapped an arm around his wife, placing a kiss on her head.

“Then Ron would have really killed me.”

Glancing to the woman on his right, Draco was pleased to see that she was still giggling. This was the second mention of Weasley, and still no reaction.

“Potter, I’m quite good at occlumency. Lemme see the memory.”

A hand slapped his thigh, “you will not Draco Malfoy!” Tipsy, Hermione did her best to look serious. “And besides, you get to see me now!”

Draco made a point of rolling his eyes and the whole group burst out laughing again.

“Boys,” Ginny sighed, “they never mature.”

Scoffing, Draco raised an eyebrow, “I highly doubt you girls were so innocent. I took plenty of contraband from girls as prefect.”

Ginny shrugged casually, “sure. But it’s not like we pictured you boys.” At her husband's offended look, the redhead rolled her eyes, “No! We pictured real men. Not scrawny teenagers.”

Draco swept the wine glass from her hand as Hermione coughed, face glowing red again.

“Easy, ‘Moine!”

Handing over the wine glass, Draco couldn’t help but enjoy Hermione’s embarrassment. It had been a difficult week of work for her, and it was nice to see her so relaxed and carefree.

Conscious that they were not alone, Draco resisted pulling her into a heavy snog. Taking a sip of his unfinished whiskey, he let his hand drift through her curls.

“Alright, I have to ask, why the hell do you call her ‘Moine?”

The three Gryffindor's glanced at him.

“I mean it’s not even how you say her name. ‘Moine, ‘Moine. Coin. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Ginny glanced at her husband, “you know, I don’t even know why.”

Pressing a hand to her cheeks, Hermione giggled, “it started fourth year. After... well, because of Krum.”

Harry grinned, “The Yule Ball. You were there Malfoy, weren’t you? Remember? She went with Viktor Krum.”

Draco nodded, “oh yes, that was a shocker.”

“Hey!”

Rubbing his side, Draco held his hand up in defence, “hey, I was a bitter fourteen year old, and you had to show up looking like a pretty girl. With the famous Quidditch star to less. Threw me for a loop.”

Grinning, Potter nodded, “yeah, well that night _Viktor_ couldn’t say her name. I mean he just could not get it right. Poor bloke.”

Hermione looked bashful, “he tried! And besides, I had a good time with _him_ that night.”

That statement hung in the air, and Draco recognized the tone. What had the Weasel done to her at the ball?

“and,” Ginny nudged her husband. Their eyes met, and Draco was almost perturbed at their silent understanding. This wasn’t the first time he and Ginny had angled the topic of conversation away from the missing Weasley. He couldn’t stand seeing Hermione slink back under that cloud.

“Right, uh, well, at one point he said her name  Her-moine-ee. And honest, that was the closest he ever got. Me and Ron thought it was hilarious. So we started saying it. And somehow it shortened to Moin-ee, and then just ‘Moine.”

Snorting, Ginny Potter shot an affectionate glance at her husband, “idiots.”

Draco shook his head, finishing his tumbler. The girl in question leaned into his embrace, and he felt that same shiver in his chest. It had hardly been three months, and yet it was getting harder to deny how badly he was falling for Hermione Jean Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, but I have several lined up to follow soon!
> 
> Also I only just realized where I got the title from  
> Dumbledore's question to Snape: "after all this time?"
> 
> (I don't really like that quote actually, or how big it's become -- but anyway, the title stays)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffiest chapter yet lol

_-December 2005-_

Christmas spirit was in full swing and the cheer was infectious. Granted this was far more low-key than the event Narcissa had planned a few weeks earlier. She glanced over at Draco -- he had been quite nervous, as this was his first muggle celebration. But, as usual, Draco was a social being, and had no problem fitting in. Normally Hermione dreaded these events, but tonight was different. Her parents had been very understanding about having a magical wedding, but still wanted to celebrate their daughter’s engagement -- and so she and Draco were the guests of honor at their annual Christmas Party.

“Hermione, your parents tell me you are studying to be a lawyer!” Mrs. Greggs exclaimed, “how marvelous! I was surprised to hear that you didn’t originally plan on going to university.”

Nodding, Hermione remembered why these parties irked her. It was quite a strain keeping up her muggle facade. Not that Draco appeared to be bothered by it yet. Then again she had been doing this a lot longer.

“Yes, well, things had come up... it just wasn’t the right time. But now I know that this is work I truly enjoy.”

Nodding eagerly, the woman glanced over to Draco, “tell me about your man! Your parents mentioned you had a new beau, but that you had been rather quiet about it.”

Taking a sip of her mulled cider, Hermione shrugged, “well, Draco and I were at school together --”

“Oh, sweet-hearts, were you?”

Snorting, Hermione shook her head, “far from it. He was quite the little shit. And according to him, I was rather loud and bossy.”

The poor woman laughed uncomfortably, and her husband snorted into his drink.

Hermione changed the subject,

“How is Dylan? Is he home for the hols?”

Nodding excitedly, Mrs. Greggs waved her arm, unaware of the wine sloshing from the glass, “that boy, home one day gone the next. He did promise to stop by tonight, but...” the woman took a sip, “Ashley, however, will be back tomorrow. She stayed behind at Uni with friends for a few days. Studying economics, she is.”

“Oh, how nice --”

There was a hand at her elbow and Hermione was pulled away.

“Sorry dears, but I need to steal my daughter away.”

With a wave Hermione spun and hurried after her mother, “Thanks, mum.”

Her mother nodded, “of course. Relight the fire, would you?”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione ducked through the crowded room. Draco was easy to spot, white blond hair an easy beacon. Glancing at the fireplace, two new logs appeared and the flames grew. Hermione also refilled her glass.

“Thank you, dear.”

Stopping alongside Draco, Hermione flashed him a smile. A fresh beer in one hand, he smiled easily enough, continuing his conversation with Dr. Harold. Apparently both families had summer homes in France. Glad to simply listen, Hermione sipped her drink, nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments. Draco looked dashing in his Icelandic jumper -- she would have to get him to wear it more often.

A squeal of delight and the rush of cold air from the front door were the only warnings she had.

“My dear! Hi, hello! Happy Christmas!”

With two wind chilled kisses on each cheek Hermione was face to face with her cousin Martina.

“Hi, Marty. Hi, Aunt Jane! Happy Christmas.”

“Sorry we’re late! Daddy just could not decide on what type of Scotch to get Uncle Tom.”

Introductions went around and Hermione was glad to feel Draco’s hand on her back. She loved her cousin dearly, but the woman reminded her a bit too much of Lavender Brown.

Marty wasted no time, “Oh my, goodness, Hermione! So exciting! Draco, is it? Well, aren’t you dashing. Now, tell. Me. Everything. I want to know all about it! Your mother has not been very chatty!”

Hermione froze, “about what?”

“The engagement! The wedding! All of it!”

Nodding, Hermione was momentarily saved with the arrival of her father. But Dr. Granger ducked away with an apologetic shrug, having snagged a fresh beer from the table behind them.

“Oh, um, well... the wedding is going to be in a year, we think sometime in the winter.”

Marty nodded eagerly, “lovely, lovely. Now, Draco, tell me, what do you do?”

With far more composure, Draco took a drink before responding, “Scotland Yard.”

“Oh! How brave! Does that pay well?”

Hermione cut her off, “Marty, tell me about you? How’s the job?”

“No, no. I want to know about you! Secretive Hermione finally engaged!” She turned towards Draco, “this girl, could never get her home for the hols. Even summers were difficult! Family reunions were rare and few for your fiance. Always off with her school chums.

Now your mum did say you two went to the same school? What was it again?”

Draco nodded, “yes, we were the same year. We were not friends, however. More like arch-enemies.”

Snorting into her drink, Hermione enjoyed her cousin’s look of surprise.

“No!”

Hermione grinned, “that’s not entirely true. Your arch nemesis was Harry. And, I suppose, Ron. You were just jealous of me, because I was so clever.”

“Annoyed. I was annoyed at how annoying you were.”

Marty giggled, smacking Draco on the arm, “oh, you two are adorable! Now, tell me some school tales! Please, Draco, Hermione never told me anything about it.” Her eyes twinkled, and she took him by the arm, “I’ve got a few good ones on Hermione. We can trade. Oh, what’s that?”

Draco had a moment of surprise, which he quickly overcame, pulling free of her grasp and rolling down his sleeve. Hermione went cold.

“A tattoo! I didn’t know you went for the bad boys, Hermione!”

Forcing a grin, Hermione kept her voice steady, “Please, we all know you’re the one who likes the scandal-types...” but Marty was reaching out again.

Stepping in front of Draco, Hermione was fully prepared to swat her cousin’s hand away. Instead, both women were taken by the hand.

Aunt Jane marched them to the next room, “good, good. Auntie Fran hasn’t had a chance to see you, dear! And you too Martina, say hello to your great aunt.”

She glanced back, but the crowd had already hidden Draco from view.

Narrowly avoiding a collision with Mrs. Heddon and two very full glasses of wine, Hermione turned back.

“Oh hello, dear,” came a whispy voice came from the plush armchair nearest the fire, and Hermione forced a grin.

“Hello auntie, you look well this Christmas.”

Marty kissed the old lady gently on the cheek, and pulled Hermione onto the loveseat opposite. Satisfied, Aunt Jane disappeared.

“Happy Christmas, Auntie,” Hermione took her Aunts frail hand, wondering if the old lady could hear anything over all the noise.

“Oh hello, dear. Nice to see you again. You’re getting married, I hear.”

Hermione nodded, “I am. Haven’t set a date yet, however. But we are very excited, he is --”

But then Marty interrupted.

“Hermione! Where’s your ring!”

Her mother was coming towards them, and it was the only thing that kept Hermione from throwing a hex. At herself or at Marty, she wasn’t sure. So far no one had noticed her lack of jewelry. Or perhaps they had been polite enough not to say anything.

“Don’t you have a ring?” Marty was practically aghast.

“No...not yet,” Hermione cringed inwardly, quickly adding, “we are going to pick them out together. And, well, life has been busy.” She grinned, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

“Really? Didn’t he propose with one? What --”

“You young people, fussing over the wrong things,” the frail voice cut through the party. Hermione and Marty fell silent, eyes wide.

Staring somewhere in the distance, Aunt Fran finished her biscuit, unaware of their stares. Then she smiled, frail hands folded in her lap.

“You know, your uncle Teddy had to sell my ring after the war.” The old lady nodded complacently, “oh yes, we were broke you see. There was almost no money to buy a house, and he refused to move in with my folks. We talked about it of course, but I didn’t mind handing it over. People were selling all their possessions then... trying to get back on their feet. And Teddy, he promised me that one day he would buy me a rock the size of Ireland. And he did too. Right after Susan was born. Went together we did, took the train up to London, and found this...”

A hand rubbed her shoulder, and she knew without turning that it was her mom. She leaned into it, positive she might cry. Hermione had never heard this story before. She wasn’t even sure she had even met her met great uncle Teddy.

Kissing Aunt Fran on the cheek, Hermione stood, “I just realized, you haven’t met my fiance yet. Let me go fetch him.”

Squeezing out of the crowded array of furniture, Hermione scanned the crowd. Leaning on the staircase bannister she spotted his white-blonde head of hair. She couldn’t help the grin on her face and she sidled up to Draco and kissed him on the cheek, interrupting his talk with the Patel family. Making a quick apology she pulled Draco away.

She clung to his side, partly for balance and partly because she could.

* * *

  _-November 4th, 2006-_

The salty breeze whipped through her hair. The small boat taking them to their private abode was slow, and even in the darkness Hermione could see the the water looked like glass beneath them. She gripped Draco’s hand tighter, but he instead pulled her under his arm. For someone who had grown up balancing on a broomstick this was nothing, but Hermione was not so confident. Balancing on a tiny boat as it magically wound through Bali’s tropical waters was not as easy as it looked. Being tired and slightly hungover was also not in her favor.

Tired, hungover and, she amended, blissfully happy. And to think, three years earlier she had been ready to swear off marriage altogether.

Finally the boat slowed, Draco’s hands keeping her upright as it parked on the sand. Jumping down, Draco helped her onto the beach, his wand bringing along their bags. The array of tiny beach villa’s were adorable and cozy, each path lined with tiki lamps. They were cottage number 4.

“C’mon Granger,” Draco pulled her down the appropriate path, “you promised me a muggle honeymoon.”

Giggling, she hurried after him, “I did, I did.”

The honeymoon was a muggle tradition that Draco was all too happy to include in their wedding. In his opinion, going on holiday simply to have sex was the best thing muggles had ever come up with. The wizarding world had no stigma against premarital sex since spells and potions had long been used to prevent unwanted pregnancies. After the wedding celebration the newlyweds would simply move into their new home. But, Draco amended, that would also result in lots of sex.

“So, you’re telling me, muggles used to wait until marriage? Both of ‘em? So the wedding night was their first...” Draco looked scandalized, “but the first time’s never any good! At least one of ‘em should know what to do! And Merlin, what if you don’t like it!? And you think that’s all it is? The marriage would be ruined already!”

Hermione smiled at the memory. When had that conversation even happened? It felt like an impossibly long time ago -- and yet here they were, the honeymoon had arrived.

The steps to the villa creaked as they made their way up, sand crunching beneath their boots.

The door opened with a tap from Draco’s wand, and the luggage obediently zoomed inside. Draco lingered, pulling her back into his arms.

Hermione smiled, pressing her lips to his.

“Well, Granger, we did it.”

Hermione shook her head.

Draco blinked at her, “what?”

Hermione bit her lip, face flushing, “that’s not my name. Say my name.”

For a long moment, Draco just stared at her, and then he broke out into a smile. Cradling, her face, he kissed her delicately.

“Hermione. Jean. Malfoy.”

A chill went up her spine, and Hermione leaped into his arms. Surprised, Draco managed to catch her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. This time the kiss was hard and passionate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (Grad School) but I have more chapters lined up, not to worry!


	10. Chapter 10

_-May 19, 2003- PART 2-_

“Ron, it will only be like this. Don’t you see? You and me. Fighting. Over everything. It won’t solve anything! And you want to bring a baby into this?“

His compromise wasn’t to get married, but start a family? That was his idea?

It was her breaking point.

“It will be good for you, Hermione, I know --we can...”

Collapsed on a kitchen chair, Hermione was past the point of crying or arguing with him. It was like climbing a fucking mountain. In winter. Barefoot. At night. She was so tired.

How did he always manage to sound so condescending? Why was it only ever her fault?

“NO, Ron!”

Her voice was an awful screech, but for once Ron shut up and stared at her. But it was the total look of surprise on his face that propelled her over the edge.

“Dammit, Ron! I Don’t want to get married!” Her throat stung as the words fell out like steam from a kettle.

It was as if the very air had frozen, a deafening silence falling over them. Ron looked like he had been petrified. But Hermione knew they were true.

“Ron,” her voice was quieter, trying again to make him understand, “Whether or not we are married -- it isn’t something you do because you are afraid of losing someone.”

She had figured it out. At some level Ron was still afraid she would leave him. That somehow life would tear them apart, maybe even that she would die. Like Fred. So Ron needed to tie them together. Once upon a time, she would have sympathized.

Flushed with anger, Ron was immediately in her face, “I not a bloody coward, Hermione! I fought in the war!”

She was never going to get through to him. It was pointless to argue any longer. There were no more tears left inside, nothing more that could be broken. Hermione rubbed at her temples, far too aware that this headache wasn’t going to go away.

* * *

_-December 6, 2003-_

Draco could still taste the red wine on her lips. He had to admit, for a muggle restaurant the meal had been a pleasant surprise. But right now she was the only thing he wanted to taste.

Wrapping his arms tighter around her, Draco was merciless with his attack. He wanted her now.

Laughing, Hermione pulled away, her cheeks bright from the cold.

“Come on, Draco, a few more muggle things to do.”

With a playful groan, he followed her up the sidewalk. The night was brisk and clear, the snowfall drifting down from the tree branches. Walking in this weather was not something he thought he would ever enjoy.

If possible it made him feel more drunk. Catching Hermione by surprise, he tugged aside her heavy scarf, placing cold lips on her collarbone. She gave a tiny shriek, which immediately turned him on. He liked every single noise she made.

“One more block, Draco!”

Batting his hands away, she surprised him by pulling him along. They made it to the corner of Marigold Way and Draco really wanted to break his no magic rule.

Eyes twinkling, Hermione seemed to read his mind, “No, you said tonight was going to be all muggle. And that’s what’s gonna happen.”

Draco snorted, “are you telling me that muggles shag differently?”

With a twirl, Hermione had him by the lapels and placed a sinfully light kiss on his lips, “maybe.”

Even the cold weather couldn’t keep his prick from reacting. Taking her by the hand, he decided to speed up the process, pulling her along.

Hermione giggled, but seemed just as eager to get inside his house when they stumbled through the brick archway.

The door opened at his touch, and they hurried inside. While hanging their coats and scarves, Draco continued to slip his cold hands under her jumper. Screeching she bolted up the staircase, where they ended up in the kitchen.

“Granger,” he grinned, kissing her throat, “if it’s kitchen sex, I can assure you, wizards do that too.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he rocked his hips into hers.

“Alright, leave your wand down here.”

He hesitated. Could he do that? What if --

Feeling her gaze, Draco felt heat rush into his cheeks. But there was no judgement in her expression.

“I will still have my wand.”

Nodding, Draco slipped his wand out of his sleeve and left it on the table.

Taking him by the hand, Hermione lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Draco caught her by the waist, pushing her into the wall with a bruising kiss. He didn’t let up until they were both gasping. His momentary lapse with the wand was all but forgotten.

Pushing him away, Hermione scrambled up the remaining stairs.

“Come on Draco” she taunted, and he bolted up after her. Turning into his bedroom, he recaptured her lips and led her straight back until the both fell on the bed.

“Come on then, Granger,” he whispered into her neck, “show me the muggle way.”

Combing her hand through his hair, she smirked.

“Undress me.”

He paused, “what?”

“Muggles have to undress each other. And I imagine, like most witches and wizards you’ve only ever used magic to strip.”

Smirking, Draco stared down at her, “Granger, that’s hardly scandalous.”

Her hands wrapped around his waist, then swept under his shirt “Have you?”

Draco hadn’t, and she grinned evilly.

“Fine, witch.”

Pushing himself up, he straddled her hips. She was wearing a blouse -- not too difficult. Starting at the top, he carefully undid the tiny, slippery buttons. But then she bucked into him, pulling him back down to her mouth.

“Granger,” he muttered into her lips, “I can’t exactly do this if you--”

But she was tugging his shirt from his belt, pushing her hands up inside against his chest.

“Faster, Draco,” she purred, “I need you.”

Grinding back into her, Draco swore. Fumbling with the tiny buttons, he fought his way down her blouse. But her fingers continued to trace up and down his stomach.  Releasing the final button, Draco was rewarded with her smooth skin and round breasts. Swearing, Draco was forced to release his hold on her. It was a hassle to pull it from her arms while keeping her pinned, and she only giggled at his struggle.

Hermione pushed him back, and Draco grit his teeth as she rubbed up against him again. But she pulled herself up and began undoing his shirt. Why were there so many buttons on clothes? She shivered as he crushed her breasts, slipping his thumb inside each cup to brush her nipples.

Hermione was far quicker at undoing buttons, but honestly Draco wouldn’t mind if she ripped his shirt off. He could feel the heat rising off her skin, and damn, if he wasn’t painfully hard.

Panting in his ear, she helped him pull off his shirt and he immediately crushed her onto the bed. Kissing, he fumbled desperately with her bra, only making her giggle again.

“Granger!” he growled into her neck, and Hermione scratched his back in response.

“My back,” she panted, “unhook it.”

Shoving his hands under her back, he enjoyed how she arched her breasts upward. Draco had seen her put on the muggle contraption many times, but feeling around at the odd fabric, Draco was lost.

There! A break in the middle. Draco tugged and twisted until Hermione was outright laughing.

“Alright, alright!” she shoved him down, “roll over!”

Rolling to the side, Draco groaned as she straddled him, “fuck, witch. Fuck. God, I’m gonna just...”

Eyes bright, she ground into him again, and then the bra was gone. Now it was her turn to moan as he cupped her breasts, enjoying how they jiggled in his hands.

Hermione’s lips crashed back down on his and he grinned into her mouth.

“Alright,” she panted, “now let’s get those trousers off.”

Sweeping his hands down, he cupped her buttocks.

“Your trousers, Draco.”

Draco grinned, shifting when he felt her hands at his belt, trying to lift his hips with her still on top. He sat up and captured her mouth in a kiss, hands roaming her bared skin. As frustrating as this was, Draco couldn’t help but laugh alongside Hermione as they rid themselves of their remaining clothes.

Eyes twinkling, Hermione’s laugh turned into a moan as he climbed over her, kissing her stomach.

“Alright witch,” he whispered into her skin, “my turn.”

* * *

_-March 10th, 2002-_

Hermione was more than surprised when she realized the number on her phone was Harry’s. He had a cellular phone, but she had never once seen him use it -- he had no friends or family in the muggle world. The Dursley’s did not count.

“Sorry, Mum, I’ve got to take this.”

Mrs Granger nodded, “of course, dear. You can go out on the patio if you like.”

Hermione nodded, and smiled in apology to the rest of her family. Pulling open the sliding door, she flashed her family a quick smile while secretly grasping the wand up her sleeve. Casting muffliato, she put the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Harry?”

“Hey, Mione’.”

The man sounded dreadful and Hermione hurriedly sat in the patio chair.

“What’s going on? Whose hurt? Is someone --?”

“No, it’s nothing like that!” Harry rushed, “I just...I just needed to talk with you.”

Oh. Now it made sense. “Without Ron.”

“Yeah, without Ron.”

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded, “what is it, Harry?”

“Has he been acting oddly with you lately?”

Glancing at the sliding glass door, she sighed, “yes. He’s been...I don’t know. Prickly, lately. I guess, I just assumed that work was getting more difficult. It was just the stress making him--”

“Moine’,” Harry didn’t believe her.

“He says he won’t go to the Burrow tomorrow.”

Harry was silent. Tomorrow the whole Weasley clan was gathering for Mother’s Day. George and Angelina were coming and there was going to be a baby shower. It was going to be Arthur and Molly’s second grandchild -- everyone was very excited. Even Charlie was coming in for the day. But Ron had been avoiding it like the plague. Hadn’t even wanted to discuss a gift. They had had several fights about it.

“Did he tell you about what happened last Monday?”

Last Monday? She had to think.

“Um, yes. He...he was angry at some Auror for screwing up a mission. Jenkins? He was pretty upset about it.”

“Hermione, that’s not -- I had to put him on probation.”

Her heart sank, “what? What -- what does that mean? What happened?”

There were sounds of traffic in the background -- Harry was in muggle London? He really didn’t want to run into Ron.

“We were after a suspect, a wizard who had been selling fake antidotes that were getting people addicted. One of his ‘customers’ ended up dying. So we were called in.”  

“And-- I am not even sure what happened, we surrounded the guy in an old barn where he had been testing potions. Auror Jenkin’s went in first and -- he got hit with something awful. His skin started melting. God, it was --- but I was trying to organize an ambush and get him to St Mungos and --” Harry sighed, “I don’t know, Hermione. Ron just snapped. He set the barn on fire and then he ran in.”

“Oh god.” Hermione shook her head. No, this couldn’t be true.

“Lewis had to disarm him, ‘Mione. Ron, he -- he used sectumsempra.”

Hermione’s eyes pricked, but she bit back the tears. No, she wanted to Apparate home and confront her idiot of a boyfriend. She had been trying to get that spell banned, possibly even registered as an unforgivable.

“He -- he didn’t tell me any of this!”

“He’s been on desk duty all week. But this is the third incident in two months. And he won’t talk to me about it. Won’t even look at me. I can’t keep this up much longer... I know other Auror’s are frustrated. God, I’m frustrated.”

Head in her hand, Hermione tried to think. She could only imagine what kind of talk was happening -- and Harry didn’t deserve that. He couldn’t be seen as giving special treatment to a friend. Especially not when their jobs were already so dangerous. But why had Ron been lying to her? That terrible feeling of being pulled in two -- something she hadn’t felt since the Horcrux hunt -- returned. And once again, Ron would only see her actions as a betrayal.

“What are you going to do?”

“Look...I’m not supposed to say anything. But I just heard back...” Harry paused, “I had him take a psych eval yesterday. To see if he is ready to go back in the field.”

Hermione swallowed, “he didn’t pass.”

“Not even close.”

She swore, wiping back the angry tears that had finally come loose. What was going on with Ron? Why hadn’t he told her any of this?

“What does that mean, for him?”

Harry sighed, “desk duty until he’s considered fit. Protocol would have him take time off or...or see a Mind Healer. Hopefully it wont come to that.”

By the tone of his voice, Harry already knew how Ron would react to either choice.

“Look, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do just yet,” Harry said slowly, “I just wanted you to know... but yeah, it might be best Ron not come tomorrow. I will let him know on Monday. But let me know if anything...if anything changes.”

Hermione nodded, sick to her stomach. Ron had been more volatile lately. Always having an issue with something or someone. Now it was starting to make sense. He had always had a quick temper but Ron had been adamant since the War that he did not want or need a Mind Healer.

“Alright, Harry. Thank you for telling me. I will see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hiatus lasted far longer than it should have. But as usual life decided to beat with a stick and I wasn't much in the mood for writing. But I'm back now --  
> so, thank you to everyone who's kept reading. It's meant so much to me


	11. Chapter 11

_-16th October 2006-_

Swirling the scotch in his glass, Draco watched his fiance as she reread the report sitting in her lap. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, Hermione pursed her lips again, frustrated at whatever passage was before her. It was two weeks until the wedding and yet, looking at her, one would never notice. According to her, all the plans had been finalized and every guest had replied -- and so, aside from an ever brightening smile, Hermione Granger was the calmest bride-to-be ever.

Draco absently rubbed his forearm, still amazed at fate’s decision to throw them together. Ten years earlier and he would have found the idea so ludicrous and insulting he would have cursed anyone for suggesting it. But ten years ago he hadn’t seen much of a future at all.

He studied her profile fondly, her long fingers tapping the muggle pen she insisted was more reliable than a quill. She was so contrary -- a witch in heart and spirit, but equally proud of her muggle heritage. And more often than not, Hermione wasn’t even aware of these little quirks.

He took another sip of the liquid courage, deciding it was time. Honestly, he was amazed Narcissa hadn’t already cornered her.  

“Why didn’t you tell me about the ring?”

Hermione looked up from her report, eyes wide, “what?”

He made a point of looking at her hands, “The muggle tradition. The wedding rings. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mouth falling open, Hermione stumbled for a response

“I... it never occurred to me. And I didn’t expect you to know about it. But how did you -- when did --?”

Draco set down his glass, “the Christmas party. I overheard you and your cousin.” Hermione blushed.

“I had to go to Potter and find out what she meant. Potter,” he chastised, “I am not doing that again.”

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry.” Hermione dropped her head in her hand.

He leaned forward on the sofa, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Taking off her glasses, she met his gaze hesitantly, “It honestly never occurred to me. I certainly wasn’t trying to hide it from you. We’re having a magical wedding after all, and --”

“But you are still going to wear the muggle dress,” Draco pointed out. She, Ginny and her mother had spent days in various muggle boutiques until returning triumphant. But Draco wasn’t allowed to see it -- bad luck, apparently -- and despite his best efforts, she would not budge on that fact.

“Yes,” she agreed, “and I told you about the honeymoon.”

Draco grinned, that was definitely a tradition he was excited about.

“But there aren’t any other muggle traditions you want? Harry mentioned a few others.”

There was something about throwing flowers and another that had to do with a garter belt that sounded rather inappropriate. But if she wanted to do them, Draco wasn’t going to object.

Hermione shook her head, “honestly, Draco, it’s not a big deal. I was born in the muggle world, but I’ve spent my whole life here as a witch -- I want to have a magical ceremony.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Besides I have only ever been to one muggle wedding myself, and I was six. I know the wizarding community doesn’t have this sort of thing -- and I certainly don’t want to marry you because of a silly piece of jewelry. I’m sorry you overheard Marty, but really it’s not --”

Draco cut her off, “that’s not true.”

Her surprise was genuine, and Draco allowed himself a moment of triumph.

“What?”

Draco shifted in his chair;

“There is an old pureblood marriage tradition. With rings,” he paused, gauging her reaction, “a matched pair, usually passed down through the families...but, well, I wasn’t sure if you would want to...”

“Draco,” she flushed, reaching for his hand, “of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

He gave her fingers a light squeeze.

“My family history, Granger. You know better than anyone who that’s made of. Dark wizards, muggleborn haters...the lot.” He wouldn’t say his aunt’s name, but it hung in the air, nonetheless. He pushed on,

“It’s a bit different than what muggles do. The rings are presented after the ceremony, and given by the parents. Usually the groom's family, but really whichever family have ones available... they supposedly strengthen the binding spell, offer protection or some such. Mum, she well, she already picked them out from the family vault -- I told her not to but...”

She was out of her seat in a moment and folded herself into his lap. Taking his head in her hands, she kissed him, deeply. When they finally parted, Draco held tight to her waist.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

Face flushed, Hermione nodded. Tears fell down her cheeks and she laughed at her own reaction. Releasing her waist, Draco carefully brushed away the tears on her cheeks. Still laughing, Hermione curled into his chest.

“Yes.”

* * *

  _-May 19, 2003- [PART 3]_

The truth had hit her like a sledgehammer. She wasn’t happy anymore. She wasn’t happy with Ron. She was never going to be happy with him.

Hermione couldn’t remember when she had accio’d the velvet box from her dresser, but there it was, in her hand. She turned it over for what felt like the millionth time and Ron still hadn’t noticed. God, what was the time? Did she even want to know? She would not be able to sleep here tonight. And sleep was all she wanted at the moment.

She stood from the chair so suddenly it caught them both by surprise. But Hermione had given up trying to talk with him. Instead she quietly placed the velvet box on the kitchen table.

Before Ron could try and stop her, before he could try and call out, Hermione had already disapperated.

A moment later Hermione stood in the middle of her childhood bedroom. There was a heavy silence that seemed to wash over her. It was a numb feeling, something she had not felt since the Battle of Hogwarts. But even that thought was met with no resistance.

Morning light was crept through the curtains but Hermione knew she was not going to work anytime soon. Clothes dropped to the carpet and she climbed under the crisp sheets. Limbs heavy with fatigue Hermione was asleep before the comforter settled.

She did not dream.

* * *

  _-May 20th, 2003-_

Taking a deep breath, Hermione squared her shoulders and stood up from her desk. She had been doing paperwork for the last hour since she had come into work late. But also because she was avoiding going back to their flat. But she had to be rational about this. They needed to discuss things -- at the very least tell Harry and Ginny. Were they over? Or was this just a much needed break from each other? Maybe it would be best for one of them to stay at Grimmauld Place for a bit.

Hermione knew in her heart that this had been the right choice. Marrying Ron was not going to help anything. Not now, anyway. But maybe he would actually listen and agree to wait another year or two. But she wasn’t going to apologize for giving the ring back.

If she could just convince him to go see a Mind Healer. It had helped her and Harry immensely after the War. But Ron could be so unbelievably stubborn. But she had to admit, that two weeks earlier at the 5th Anniversary of the Battle, Ron had been quite composed. Maybe a change of scenery was all he needed.

“Hold, please!” Hurrying, she ducked into the Ministry elevator, nodding politely at the Wizard who had held it open. With a tremendous lerch the carriage dropped, and when it stopped two floors down at the Auror office, Hermione ignored the queasiness in her stomach. Afterall, Ron hadn’t worked there for almost a year now. Running the Joke Shop with George had been a perfect solution after his mandatory Leave of Absence from the Aurors. Maybe it was being around family, or simply working in a lighthearted environment, but Ron’s anger had softened. He was no longer mad at Harry, and -- besides the last few weeks -- had not picked any fights with her.

Stepping out of the elevator onto the Ministry floor, Hermione strode across the black tile, her shoes echoing. Unlike at five pm, there was no que for the Apparition point. Hermione glanced at her watch -- 7:02 -- damn, she had stayed late. Ron usually got home around 6:30 and would no doubt be waiting for her.

With one more steadying breath, Hermione spun in place and seconds later landed on the carpet in front of their fireplace.

“Ron, I’m home.” Slipping out of her Ministry robes, she sent them to their hooks while also kicking off her heels, “Ron?”

Heading into the kitchen, Hermione wasn’t surprised to find no food on the stove. Ron rarely cooked -- but hopefully he had at least waited for her before ordering take away. A cereal bowl sat in the sink, evidence that he had at least eaten breakfast this morning before work.

“Look Ron, we need to talk about last night.” She turned down the hall, pushing open the bedroom door, “I just want to --”

Hermione went cold, goosebumps forming on her skin.

The bedroom was empty. The closet and armoire stood half open, revealing empty shelves and hangers. All of Ron’s things were gone.

“No.”

Swallowing, Hermione immediately cast a location spell -- only to feel it go static. Nothing. But maybe he was just out of reach of the spell. Hermione tried to think, Grimmauld Place was a little over two miles south and the spell only had a mile radius. Sure, maybe he was there.

Turning slowly, gripping the doorway for support, Hermione tip toed back to the kitchen. Was there a note somewhere? Had she missed it?

“No, no, no.” Hermione ran into the sitting area. The Kitchen table? On the fireplace, maybe?

Nothing.

She glanced at the mantle clock, it read 7:16. Where could he be?

Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. The Burrow! Swallowing down the panic building in her chest, Hermione spun in place only to arrive barefoot before the Burrow door.

“Hermione, dear...” striding past Molly, Hermione hurried over to the Grandfather clock. It had been hard to look at the clock ever since the war, where Fred’s arm was permanently pointed down towards Death. But Mr and Mrs Weasley had kept it in place, adding new arms for Victoria and baby Fred. But that’s not what she was seeing now.

“Hermione? What --”

Ron’s arm had moved to LOST.

“Oh my god.”

Hermione collapsed even as Molly rushed to her side, shouting for Arthur. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe!

No! No, no, no.

Ron was gone.

* * *

 

THE RINGS:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Draco and Hermione's rings I knew I wanted them to have a matched pair. I based this on the idea that Wizard Marriages (Especially Purebloods) probably haven't changed since Medieval times and therefore rings would have served a different purpose. In Medieval times rings were a mark of status/nobility (kiss the King's ring). They were passed down through families and worn by both men and women (unisex). Marriage literally meant joining a new family, and therefore you also had the right to wear the Family ring.  
> So in old romances when the Knight gives the lady his ring, it was not a marriage proposal (like today) it was literally him handing over his identity. He was saying you are now my family OR I chose you over my family/my Title, etc.  
> I found Draco's ring first, and I liked that it had an M engraved in it. And while it is obviously more masculine they both have a gemstone and are both highly decorated (rather then simple wedding bands or the diamond Engagement Ring traditionally meant for women).  
> Both rings have an Amethyst gemstone set in gold. Amethyst was/is considered a symbol or wealth and nobility, so it made sense for a Pureblood family. (In Ancient Rome only Caesar was allowed to wear purple and ever since it has been associated with power and nobility). It is also considered a healing stone and helps people get in touch with their feelings -- both good qualities for a happy marriage.  
> And in case you were wondering these were made by wizards not goblins.  
> -  
> As for Ron's engagement ring, I wanted it to look very modern in comparison -- but I didn't want to pick an ugly one. If you recall, that was one of Ron's fears -- that he had messed up and chosen a bad muggle ring. Which, I imagine every person who chooses a ring worries about, but it was also Ron completely missing the point. Hermione wasn't worried about the physical ring, but what it represented.  
> I think this is a beautiful ring, personally.


End file.
